


Drabble Dump (Summer 2018)

by Vexatious



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Bittybones, Alternate Universe - Horrortale, Alternate Universe - Lamiatale, Alternate Universe - Swapfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underfell, Alternate Universe - Underswap, Anxiety, Blood and Injury, Body Modification, Body Positivity, Bondage and Discipline, Breeding Kink, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Lamiatale Bittybones, Light Angst, Marriage Proposal, Masturbation, Mild Blood, Multi, Non-Consensual Bondage, Object Insertion, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Some Explicit Language, Some Explicit Sexual Content, Spanking, Swapfell Papyrus (Undertale), Swapfell Sans (Undertale), Tongue Piercings, Underfell Papyrus, Underfell Sans, Underswap Papyrus, Underwear Theft, check chapters for warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-14 23:11:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 22,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14779074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vexatious/pseuds/Vexatious
Summary: Drabble requests are open again! You may leave your request in the comments or send it in via an ask tomy Tumblr.





	1. The Greatest Treasure of All

**Author's Note:**

> Requested: A Chain (lamia SF!Papyrus bitty) meeting a Sunlust (lamia UL!Sans bitty)

Life for a miniature Chain bitty living wild in the woods tended to be uneventful. He ate when he wanted. He climbed a nearby ridge to see if he could feel the SOUL resonance of an owner, and every now and then he discovered a beautiful treasure, usually a rock or gem. He’d never found anything of this size, shape, and ethereal beauty before though.

The lamia curled protectively around his prize as he sat atop his small but cherished hoard. He loved the warm smooth surface of the ovoid object and the way it sparkled and shimmered with myriad colors- reds, blues, a muted pink, purples, and even gold. It was the most wonderful treasure that any Chain could ask for, but its beauty wasn’t even the best thing about it.

No, the thing the Chain adored the most about his precious prize was a small SOUL that beat inside of it. The Chain stayed diligently curled around the gorgeous egg, keeping it warm and safe from predators until the day it hatched.

Nothing could be more rewarding for a Chain than to see a magnificent gem hatch into an even more magnificent baby lamia. The Sunlust that burst forth from the shell had iridescent scales that danced and glowed in rainbow colors under the dappled sunlight that spilled into the nest. The Chain looked down proudly at his newly hatched child and felt their SOULs resonate in perfect harmony. He closed his eyes, basking in the sweet and gentle warmth of finding the greatest treasure of all- a family of his own.


	2. All in a Day's Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested: A Honey Bo (Underswap Papyrus lamia bitty) joining his owner at work.

Every day after you get ready for work, but right before you leave, you ask Honey the same question:

“Would you like to come to work with me today?”

The lazy lamia always says no, preferring to stay at home and watch vines or nap the day away instead of joining you filling orders for customers at Wal-Mart. You don’t blame him. More often than not, you wish that you could stay home too and curl up on the couch passing time by throwing pieces of popcorn into the air and trying to catch them in your mouth.

* * *

You toss your ninja cat tote bag into your locker without much thought and clock in for your shift. Time to get shopping! You don’t notice the wiggling movement in your locker as you head out onto the floor. You completely miss the sight of Honey’s small skull emerging from the top of your tote bag where he teleported himself shortly before you left. You certainly aren’t around when the rest of the Honey Bo’s body flops out into your work locker

Honey teleports himself from prison cell number 118 onto the concrete backroom floor, ready to explore your workplace and perhaps cause some lighthearted mayhem. After all, nothing breaks up the monotony of a hard day’s work like pranks, right?

* * *

You walk through the store, settling into the daily routine of picking up the designated items on your list, taking them outside to customers waiting in their cars, rinsing, and repeating. Today is a bit different though. For the first few hours of your shift, every time you get within a few yards of the toy department you hear a constant deafening chorus of the Hamster Dance Song.

It’s not unusual to hear annoying songs throughout the store, especially near the toys. The “Try Me” stickers are an auditory nightmare for anyone in the vicinity when unsupervised children are running amok. This isn’t sporadic racket though. This is well coordinated and seemingly endless.

Throughout the several hours of noise warfare, you see other employees scrambling to silence the cacophony, but they all emerge from the aisle looking perplexed, the sounds of the Hamster Dance chomping at their heels. Suddenly and without any obvious reason, it ceases.  _Ah, sweet blessed silence at last,_ you think.

Until the screaming starts.

You’d only just stepped through the automatic doors back into the store when you heard it. It sounds like your coworker Stacy’s voice. She’s shrieking hysterically near the deli counter with a crowd of other coworkers surrounding her, trying to calm her down to no avail. You wonder what upset her so badly, and as you take a step in her direction to find out, your manager appears right in front of you, holding out a sheepishly grinning Honey.

“He says he belongs to you,” your manager, David, tells you, his tone letting you know that he’s not exactly amused by the nuisance.

“He does,” you admit, taking him from your boss’s hands and draping him across your shoulders. “So, uh, how much trouble are we in?”

“Well, he-” the manager points an accusatory finger at Honey “-is banned from the store for crimes of Hamster Dancing, sleeping in the food warmer with the popcorn chicken, and scaring Stacy. As for you, I’m giving you a paid break to take him home.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, thanking him genuinely.

“Just get him out of here before Stacy sees him again,” he instructs, sounding harried. You can still hear Stacy’s terrified whimpers as she’s led away to the break room.

You step into the parking lot, ready to scold Honey.

“paid time off!” Honey proclaims proudly.

“Honey, no! What you did was bad. I could’ve been fired! You could’ve been hurt! You got banned!”

“you’re welcome,” Honey says brightly.

Your scolding has no effect on him at all.


	3. Midnight Snack (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: NSFW Horrorcest/fontcest with a blow-job, praise, fluff, and aftercare
> 
> WARNING: THIS IS A NSFW CHAPTER! Contains: sexual language, sexual content, oral sex, somnophilia

Blood slept soundly, snoring like a fleet of diesel trucks until his brother crawling into bed with him jostled him awake. Sugar snuggled against him under the blankets, looking up at him with that adorable expression that Blood loved so much… much more than he should actually. Blood petted Sugar’s skull, fighting a losing battle with the magic threatening to pool in his pelvis at his brother’s proximity.

“you have another nightmare, Shug?” Blood asked, shifting away from his brother, but Sugar clung to him.

“Actually, brother, I’m a bit… hungry.” Unlike the other Papyruses they’d met since coming to the Surface, Sugar always spoke softly.

Blood and his brother spent so long starving in their version of the Underground that the abundance of food here in their new home sometimes overwhelmed them. This led to frequent odd and unscheduled mealtimes, but Blood could never deny his brother. If Sugar was hungry, Blood would drop whatever he was doing and go to the kitchen at any time of day or night to prepare food for him.

Tonight, however, Sugar craved something a little different.

“I… I don’t want food, brother… I want you.” 

Sugar tugged tentatively on the waistband of Blood’s boxer shorts- the only article of clothing that the stocky skeleton wore when he slept.

“oh, Shug, no. you shouldn’t-” Blood reached down to move Sugar’s hands away from the obviously tented fabric, but his protest died a swift and painless death as Sugar’s hands brushed his erection, sending a jolt of pleasure shooting through every bone in his skeletal body.

Blood could never deny his brother, after all.

Blood helped his brother push down his boxers, and the expression on Sugar’s face when his thick, throbbing cock was finally exposed melted away any question in his mind that he would go through with this. Sugar stared at the dark red shaft with open awe, and it made Blood wonder if this was Sugar’s first sexual experience.

“are you sure about-” Once again, Blood’s words were cut off. Sugar nuzzled his freckled cheek against Blood’s conjured erection, and the world fell away for a moment. Sugar’s warm, coral-colored tongue darted out, sweeping the underside of Blood’s shaft from the base to the tip, and Blood dug his fingers into his bedsheets to stop himself from guiding Sugar’s sweet mouth down over his cock.

“Do you like it?” asked Sugar uncertainly, watching Blood pant in heated anticipation.

“Shug, nothin’ in my life will ever compare to this moment right here,” Blood replied with complete honesty. Sugar blushed and got back to work, wrapping his delicate hand around Blood’s crimson magic and giving it a careful squeeze before pumping it a few times.

Precum gathered at the tip of Blood’s cock, and Sugar lapped it up eagerly, swirling his tongue around around the head until Blood’s back arched, seeking more as he moaned his brother’s name over and over. “fuck, Shug, don’t stop. just like that. oh fuck,” Blood babbled as his little brother explored his entire length, tasting every swollen, aching inch.

“Language, brother,” murmured Sugar. Blood didn’t even have a chance to apologize because Sugar lowered his head and took Blood’s cock into his mouth.

Blood’s hips bucked reflexively at the sudden hot, wet sensation of the magic summoned in Sugar’s mouth and throat closing around his cock. He wanted nothing more than to cram his full length down Sugar’s throat until his baby brother choked on it, but he resisted. He could never do that to Sugar. He wanted Sugar to enjoy this as much as he did… if that was even possible, so he rested his hands gently on Sugar’s skull and stroked his brother’s smooth bones, whispering breathy words of praise to keep himself from cumming too soon.

“that’s it, Shug, take it all like a good boy. you feel so good.” Blood closed his sockets and hummed in pleasure as Sugar bobbed his head, suckling and licking at the cock filling his mouth. He also continued to jerk the base of Blood’s shaft with a strong, confident motion. “you’re doing so well.”

The slurping and gulping drove Blood wild, but he held back, making it last as long as he could. A thin string of saliva dribbled down Sugar’s chin, but the taller skeleton had his eyes locked on Blood, watching his brother come completely undone in the matter of a few short, sexually-charged minutes.

“Shug, Shug baby. i’m gonna cum, and if you don’t wanna swall-”

Sugar deep-throated Blood’s cock, sucking hard and moaning as his brother’s control slipped and thick, hot cum poured into his mouth. He drank it down, swallowing every drop and teasing Blood’s cock for more.

When Sugar finally released Blood’s cock, panting and dazed from his own actions, Blood ran a thumb across his round, freckled cheekbone. He never knew his wicked-looking eyelights could morph into hearts until he saw them reflected in Sugar’s loving gaze.

“yer so beautiful, Sugar,” he chuckled, pulling his brother up to lie next to him in the bed.  He held Sugar close, caressing his face and telling him just how much he loved him.

“I love you too, brother,” Sugar said with the most captivating smile on the Surface or beneath it.

* * *

Blood woke up from the hottest, most realistic wet dream of his life surprised that he hadn’t made more of a mess in his blankets. He’d wash the strands of crimson cum off tomorrow. For now, he wanted to bask in the afterglow.

* * *

Outside of Blood’s bedroom, Sugar stood frozen, waiting for his brother to settle back into sleep. He lifted a hand to his mouth, scooping a stray bit of cum from the corner of it before absently licking it off of his slim phalange. He couldn’t believe he’d been so bold. He couldn’t believe Blood’s cum tasted so good.

He couldn’t believe that he was already planning to do it again.


	4. The Healing Power of Hats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested: Owner of a full-sized King (UF!Papyrus lamia) bittybones comes home from work after having a panic attack and needs help grounding themselves.
> 
> CONTAINS: Panic attack/anxiety description

You stumble through the front door not even sure how you managed to get there after the sudden panic attack that sent you home from work. Your surroundings were a blur of overwhelming lights, colors, and sounds. Nothing made sense; you couldn’t breathe. Every coping technique you’d practiced flew right out the window as you completely lost control of yourself and sank into the whirling maelstrom of repetitive intrusive thoughts.

Fortunately, your beloved full-sized King lamia is there to greet you at the door. He senses your distress immediately and sweeps you into a tight hug, carrying you into the bedroom where he makes a nest of blanket and pillows to snuggle you in. You cling to him, a life preserver in a sea of panic that threatens to pull you under.

You gasp and hiccup, but you can’t catch your breath. You can’t shake the roiling emotions within you. Two firm hands begin to rub soothing circles on your back, bringing you back to the moment.

“I’m here. It’ssss alright now. I’m here. Just remember your exercissssessss,” your lamia companion hisses in a low, comforting tone. You do remember your exercises, but it’s hard to focus on mindfulness and breathing when your mind is crowded with unwelcome feelings. “Breathe in,” the King commands, counting for you as you inhale. “Hold it. Now out.” Once more he counts for you.

You fall into the rhythm of breathing, in through your nose, holding it, then exhaling through your mouth for a long count of four on each step. As you calm yourself through breathing, the King settles your body into a comfortable position, gently straightening your limbs and massaging your back to relieve the pressure of tense muscles.

The hyperventilation returns, and when your King encourages more breathing exercises, you tell him that you can’t. You can’t. You just can’t… can’t… can’t. Not right now, maybe not ever again. Realizing that you are spiraling back into a full blown panic attack, the King tries a different method.

“I’d like a hat,” he comments offhandedly. “What kind of hat do you think I sssshould get?”

Without putting any sort of thought into your answer you blurt out: “A sombrero.”

“What ssssize?” prompts the King.

His question distracts you, forcing you to focus on the idea of the very large and stately lamia wearing a sombrero which is either much too large or much too small for him.

“A small one,” you venture.

“How ssssmall?”

“Ridiculously small.”  You hold out one hand with your forefinger and thumb nearly touching to demonstrate. Just like that, the pattern breaks, releasing you from the grip of your anxiety. You suddenly feel extremely drained, and you’re glad that the lamia is there to hold you. Your body is urging you to rest and recover, and the blankets your King tucks around you while he holds you in his strong coils only add to your drowsiness.

“Better?” the lamia asks.

You nod. “Just tired.”

“Need anything?”

“My phone.”

“Callssss can wait.”

“I’m not making a call; I’m ordering you a tiny sombrero.”

“…”


	5. First Time Jitters (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: Intimacy between a King (UF!Papyrus lamia) and ftm transgender reader
> 
> WARNING: NSFW chapter. Contains explicit language, penetration
> 
> Also, a special thanks to my friend Andrew for providing me with information and perspective to write this piece.

When you first adopted your full-sized King lamia, you were looking for a companion to share the ups and downs of your life with, but you ended up finding so much more.  The elegant lamia courted you like a true gentleman, taking his time to win you over with unconditional love and undeniable charm. Tonight would be the culmination of your bonding experience together- the physical consummation of your relationship. You and your King were going to have sex.

You undressed with your back towards him. You had no idea why you suddenly felt so shy after sharing your day to day life with him for so long. You told him you were ftm transgender the day you met him, and it never mattered to him in the slightest. He loved you for who you were without question or judgment, but something about being so exposed and vulnerable in front of him for the first time awakened an old anxiety within you.

You turned to face him, body bare and on full display and said the one thing you swore you’d never ever say in a situation like this: “Is this ok?” You couldn’t meet his dark crimson eyelights, not after asking something like that, not with the irrational fear of rejection that swept through you.

You shouldn’t have worried. The King slithered close and gathered you into his arms, laying you gently on the bed. You blushed as his hungry eyelights traveled up and down your naked body with nothing showing from them but love and lust. You tried to cover your face, flustered by his intensity, but he tugged your hands away and made you look at him directly.

“Everything about you issss beautiful to me. Everything about you issss perfect,” he hissed softly. “The parts you have do not define who you are. Thissss doesss,” he rested his hand over your heart, “and thissss doessss.” He touched your temple. “You are male here and here,” he said, repeating the gestures, “and also here and here.” He touched his own skull and the space on his ribcage where you could plainly see his SOUL glowing.

“I love you, not your genitalssss.” He wiped a tear from the corner of your eye. You didn’t even realize that his words made you tear up until he touched you. “If you are sssstill nervoussss, we can wait until you feel ready,” he continued, caressing your cheek.

“I’m ready,” you told him. You were sure, especially after his affirming words, that you’d chosen the right mate.

He kissed you passionately, nipping your bottom lip as his hands trailed up and down your sides. Though he didn’t focus on your breasts, usually secured under a binder, he didn’t ignore them either, thumbing your nipples and massaging the tender flesh just to feel you moan into his mouth.

The huge lamia proceeded to kiss his way down your body, spreading your legs apart with his hands and admiring your enlarged clit. It provided a tempting and convenient target for a special delivery of pleasure. The King closed his mouth over your sensitive clit and teased it with his tongue before suckling at you hard.

Your moans turned into high-pitched cries, the kind of cries that held a feminine edge that caused a jolt of dysphoria in you. The lamia saw the emotions cross your face, and he didn’t want you to dwell on painful thoughts or memories, so he pulled you back into a kiss, using his hands to stimulate you instead.

You gasped and moaned around his questing tongue, and your back arched, pressing you tightly against him when his fingers begin to explore you. You tapped his chest, breaking the kiss briefly.

“You’re going to need-” Your King silenced you with more kisses. Running a long, smooth phalange up and down along your pussy, he reached back into his lengthy coils with the other hand and brought forth a bottle of lube. You’d only mentioned the need for it once or twice, but you should’ve known your lamia lover wouldn’t forget.

The King applied the lube generously, always keeping your comfort and pleasure at the forefront of his mind. He took his time, teasing your pussy while he nuzzled and kissed your neck. Slowly, carefully, he started fingering you, working to simultaneously pleasure you and stretch you out. One finger made way for two fingers, and soon enough he was gently scissoring his fingers inside of you.

You saw the King’s dual curved cocks emerge from his slit, dripping with the arousal from within. No lube would be necessary for those already slick shafts, and you spread your legs wide so that he could position himself. He rubbed himself against you, lining the double tips of his cocks up. He entered you an inch at a time, stroking the side of your face while he waited for you to adjust to his size before pushing in a little further. You silently thanked him for the prior attention; you never could’ve taken his girth without his ample preparations.

You were panting by the time he hilted inside of you, but you loved the delicious stretch, pull, and fullness of having your King finally take you for his own. He started with slow deliberate thrusts, but soon you were both swept up in the pleasure of the experience. The King’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close to him, and you clung to him with your arms and legs.

Your cries for more became incomprehensible babbling as he picked up his pace. He nipped your neck, being mindful of his fangs, and his fingertips dug slightly into the flesh of your shoulders as you both neared completion.

* * *

The large King lamia curled around you. You both laid on the bed, naked, satisfied, and content to simply enjoy each other’s company. You ran your fingers along the edge of his hood, and he turned his head to kiss your palm.

You thought back over his words from earlier.

“I love you, not your genitals,” you murmured to the affectionate King, “but I think I love your genitals too.”

His deep, rumbling chuckle vibrated through your body as you drifted off to sleep in his strong, protective arms.


	6. Kraits and Dates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: A Krait (W. D. Gaster lamia bitty) courting his owner.

Full-sized or miniature, size seldom mattered to a Krait. As long as the affectionate lamias could cuddle their owners, they were happy. Things changed a bit when a Krait fell in love. Suddenly, a very small body felt like a very large obstacle.

Kraits are no strangers to the comfort of physical touch. They spend a great deal of their time seeking it out. Unlike most lamias, who use tail-wrapping as a sign of blossoming romance, Kraits simply prefer to be clinging to or hugging their owners in some way. Krait courtship truly starts with the presenting of the gifts.

The Krait slithered around the kitchen, looking for the perfect food gift. He didn’t want to bring his owner a graham cracker or an apple from the fridge. He wanted to  _make_  something to show that he cared for them and could provide for them. Unfortunately, operating the stove wasn’t a practical option, so what could be made cold?

Pudding! The chemical reaction between the flavored powder and the fat content in milk appealed to the Krait’s scientific side, and a sweet dessert would make a perfect romantic gesture!

The Krait acquired a bowl, a box of pudding mix from the cupboard, and a small container of milk from the fridge. When he tore open the packet for the pudding, more of the powder got on him than ended up in the bowl. The Krait didn’t worry too much; he’d just add less milk. The Krait tipped the milk container forward to begin pouring, but the container caught on the lip of the bowl, flipping the whole thing over on top of the poor Krait and trapping him.

His owner found him the next morning, still trapped underneath the bowl, bumping his way along the kitchen baseboard. They lifted the bowl off of him and gave him a hug, a kiss, and a warm sudsy bath, and the Krait fell a little bit deeper in love, something he didn’t even think was possible.

The lovestruck Krait spent the next week recreating the constellations on his owner’s bedroom ceiling with whistle activated LED lights. His hard work earned him plenty of oohs aahs and even another kiss. He considered his courting to be a resounding success so far. Now he just needed to find a way to perform a display for them and hopefully they would accept him as a mate.

Size became a major issue. No matter how carefully the Krait choreographed his display dance, he looked ridiculous. Even if his owner laid on the floor, his display would fail to impress. He needed a better plan. He needed science!

A machine took shape, hidden in a corner of the garage reserved for  the Krait’s personal projects. Diagrams littered the floor and cluttered the walls as he slowly worked to make his dreams into reality, and finally it was done.

The Krait heard his owner calling to him as he programmed the machine. He heard the door that separated the garage from the house open, but the machine was already whirring to life. The  _tap-tap-tap_  of his owner’s feet on the concrete floor synced up with the countdown on the screen.

_3…_

_2…_

_1…_

“What’cha got th-”

A bright light flashed, and when the Krait finally blinked away the afterglow, he frowned in confusion. The word SUCCESS blinked on the screen, the screen that should appear tiny to him if the experiment had actually succeeded. The Krait felt something touch his shoulder, and he turned around.

His mouth dropped open in shock.

His machine had worked, but it hadn’t made him grow.

It made his owner shrink!


	7. Crime and Punishment (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: Underfell Sans is jealous of someone flirting with his brother. Sub Underfell Papyrus, dirty talk, and rough sex
> 
> WARNING: This chapter is NSFW and contains bondage, spanking, and explicit language

_**SMACK!** _

“yer mine. now say it.”

_**SMACK!** _

“i can’t hear you.”

_**SMACK!** _

“such a slut for punishment, aren’t ya,  _Boss_?”

Edge’s dark crimson ecto-flesh glowed cherry red on both of his ass cheeks where Red slapped him, making sure to hit the exact same spot each time. The stocky skeleton loved the sight of his brother like this. Edge’s scarf bound his hands, and a red bone attack secured them to the wall above his head.  Red made sure Edge faced the wall so that he could see that firm round ass in all of its glory before he destroyed it.

A gag prevented Edge from answering Red’s questions with anything other than garbled cries. Red supposed it wasn’t terribly fair to punish his brother for refusing to answer questions when he couldn’t, but he loved seeing those red-tinted tears and drool streaming down the hardened Royal Guard Captain’s face.

A spreader bar kept Edge on his knees with his legs spread wide, showing off his quivering pussy and the arousal dripping from it onto their living room carpet. Red ground his knee roughly into Edge’s sensitive mound and chuckled darkly when a fresh gush of sticky slick stained the fabric of his shorts.

“ya fuckin’ love this.”

_**SMACK!** _

“disgusting.”

_**SMACK!** _

Red wanted to hear Edge scream. He wanted to hear his brother whimper and beg. He unbuckled the ball gag, but the thump of it hitting the floor was drowned out by Edge’s desperate mewling.

“I’M A SLUT, YOUR SLUT. PLEASE MASTER GIVE ME YOUR FAT COCK. FILL MY FILTHY CUNT WITH YOUR CUM!”

_**SMACK!** _

“PLEASE FUCK ME, PLEASE!”

Red let his basketball shorts fall from his hips to pool around his shoes. He focused his magic, making his cock far too big to fit Edge’s tight little pussy without tearing him. No prep. No warning. Red just slammed his cock to the hilt inside his brother, ignoring the tall skeleton’s screams.

He didn’t even know if Edge had seen that drunk bunny bitch makin’ doe eyes at him, but Red needed to make sure that his beloved brother

Never.

Ever.

Left.

Him.


	8. TIL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: A Mamba (Swapfell Sans lamia bitty) adjusting to an owner who loves to cuddle.

The proud and regal Mamba surveyed his kingdom. The human who adopted him had outdone themselves, creating a suitable home for a lamia as majestic as himself. He had a large nest filled to overflowing with only the softest of blankets. His owner provided him with high quality meats; he didn’t even need to hunt! Even his toys were luxurious: exotic feather lures and motorized mice that moved in clever zigzag patterns.

The Mamba felt well and truly spoiled, just as every Mamba should, but he had noticed one very particular thing about his owner. They liked to stare at him. It wasn’t unusual for an owner to stare at their wondrous Mamba, and he appreciated the open admiration that they constantly showed to him. They always had a look of longing when they stared at him though. What more could they want than the honor of his presence? Was he failing them in some way as a companion?

He decided to ask. Any Mamba worth his lovely iridescent scales needed to make sure his owner’s needs were also met. It wouldn’t do at all for his owner to provide such an opulent lifestyle for him and still feel they lacked something from him in return. An excellent owner required the most excellent of care.

“Issss there ssssomething I can do for you?” The Mamba asked the next time his owner leveled their wistful gaze upon him. They blushed at his attention. How precious!

“Yes, please,” they responded shyly. “May I just-” They reached for him, opening and closing their hands in uncertainty. Perhaps they merely wanted to touch his well-groomed scales?

“Proceed,” the Mamba invited, not expecting what would happen next.

His trusted owner grabbed him and pulled him right up against their body! They rubbed their cheek along his entire body! He was trapped, imprisoned, smothered, suffocated by their overbearing proximity. Their soft, warm fingers gently stroked his slender bones and sleek tail. Why would they do this? What was even happening?

“Help,” he gasped weakly, though he soon gave up on pushing them away. In fact… their actions felt… nice, in a way? Did he love this or hate it?

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to do that for so long,” they admitted sheepishly, loosening their hold on him.

“What issss that called?” demanded the Mamba, still in shock from the sudden full-body contact.

“It’s called cuddling….”

“Do it again!”


	9. A Decent Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: HoneyMustard fluff and a proposal

Stretch loved Red, he really did. Who else would drive to one of those Outback Steakhouses with him, singing an improvised parody of “Barbie Girl” about their future meal plans?

 _We are Barbie dudes_  
_Going to eat foods_  
 _Order a steak_  
 _And maybe cheesecake_  
 _C’mon Barbie_  
 _Let’s eat hearty_

Red didn’t suspect a thing. He had no idea why Stretch decided on this fancy dinner date in lieu of vegging out on the sofa or what devious ulterior motives his long-time boyfriend had hidden up his hoodie sleeves. He just wanted to chow down on Bloomin’ Onions and toss around Crocodile Dundee quotes.

Stretch reached into his pocket and stroked the smooth satin of the ring box. Blue had accompanied him to the jewelry store to pick it out, and tonight, if everything proceeded as planned, he’d hopefully be placing it on one of Red’s greasy fingers. Maybe he’d fly in the face of tradition and put it on Red’s middle finger. The gruff skeleton would definitely enjoy that.

Chirpy cookie-cutter pop music came from everywhere and nowhere, surrounding the two skeletons in a chorus of “baby” this and “I love you” that. During an extended ukulele solo, Stretch started to have doubts. Monsters didn’t usually get married. When a monster found their mate, their SOULs connected, and the love they experienced was all the commitment they needed.

Stretch wanted his relationship with Red to be special though. He wanted their connection to be official. Red craved stability more than surf n turf with extra mustard, and Stretch would never deny his boyfriend anything. A knife waving in front of his face interrupted his thoughts, making him jump.

“i said  _that’s_  not a knife,  _this_  is a knife,” repeated Red for the umpteenth time. He’d never seen Stretch too distracted to appreciate an 80s movie reference before. Stretch barked out a distracted laugh.

“you’re right. this is a fork,” Stretch tried to joke in return, but Red narrowed his sockets, not buying the pitiful attempt at humor.

“is everything ok, ya nervous carrot?” Red played it cool, but he always worried that something would happen to jeopardize the life he and Stretch had made together. Bad luck had a way of finding the stocky skeleton no matter how hard he worked to avoid it.

Stretch cleared his non-existent throat. It was now or never. In his mind, the scene unfolded with him pushing out his chair, kneeling, and presenting the gorgeous ring to his boyfriend with the question slipping easily from his mouth to be answered with an overjoyed, resounding “yes!”

Instead, Stretch’s chair snagged on the carpet and tipped, spilling him onto the floor alongside the detritus from their meal. He laid on his back, looking up at Red’s concerned face, and decided to abort the original mission and wing it. He retrieved the ring box from his pocket, opened it, and blurted his question rather awkwardly.

“i know monsters don’t really do marriage, but i thought maybe we could try it or something?” He cursed himself inwardly for botching the proposal, but Red grinned wider than usual, the subtle lighting glinting on his gold tooth.

“i see you finally  _mustard_  up the courage to pop the question,” Red chuckled.

Stretch groaned. “don’t make it worse than it already is.” A disgruntled waiter stepped over Stretch’s prone body, shooting a glare at both skeletons without saying a word.

“i’m just  _engaging_  you in conversation,” Red said innocently.

“Red, no.”

“i thought you liked being  _peppered_  with my puns?” Red flicked a piece of cracked peppercorn down onto his boyfriend.

“just answer the question.”

“but i’m on a  _roll_ ,” Red whined playfully, holding up a piece of bread. Stretch sighed.

“ _that’s_  not a roll.  _this_  is a roll.” Stretch rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up into a kneeling position. “and i hope this question rings a bell. Red, will you marry me?”

Stretch took his boyfriend’s raucous laughter as a yes, and the soon-to-be Mister and Mister Skeleton were promptly kicked out of the restaurant for their rowdiness. It was worth it for a pocket full of fried onion petals and a future full of hopes and dreams come true.


	10. Ready or Knot, Here I Cum (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: Fontcest, noncon, and breeding kink  
> WARNING: contains bondage/captivity, fontcest, rape/non-con, breeding kink, knotting, slight cum inflation

“i can’t take anymore. please, Papyrus. no more. i can’t…”

Sans’ words faded into sobbing, and he struggled in vain against the ropes binding his hands to the headboard above his head. He never should’ve agreed to this, but he had no idea that Papyrus’ dominant heats made him into such an insatiable beast.

His pleas fell on deaf proverbial ears as Papyrus stared down at his brother’s naked bones, scored with deep scratches and stained with days of dried cum. Papyrus shoved Sans’ femurs apart roughly, inspecting the bruised and gaping magic in his brother’s pelvis. He tsk-ed at the sight of his precious cum spilling out of Sans’ pussy to puddle on the bedsheets.

“WE WOULDN’T HAVE TO KEEP DOING THIS IF YOU HELD YOUR LEGS TOGETHER LIKE I TOLD YOU. YOU’RE LETTING IT ALL LEAK OUT. YOU’LL NEVER GET PREGNANT AT THIS RATE,” Papyrus scolded patiently. It wasn’t the first time Sans had failed to follow his instructions. As much as Sans protested this treatment, he never learned his lesson. If he would only obey and submit…

“please. please stop,” sobbed Sans. “i don’t want-”

Papyrus shushed his brother, sliding his thick, throbbing cock easily into Sans’ overused, over-stretched pussy. Sans babbled, begging his brother for MERCY as Papyrus thrusted, trying to force his knot inside of his brother’s trembling cunt.

“I KNOW YOU CAN TAKE MY KNOT, SANS. YOU’VE DONE IT BEFORE. JUST A LITTLE BIT MORE,” Papyrus coaxed.

“it hurts,” wailed Sans.

“SHH, IT ONLY HURTS BECAUSE YOU’RE TENSE. JUST RELAX AND LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU.” With a final grunt of effort, Papyrus managed to bury his knot in his brother’s pussy, and just in time too. Hot cum poured from Papyrus’ swollen knot to fill his brother to the bursting point.

Sans writhed beneath him, trying in vain to escape. His stomach began to swell with the sheer volume of Papyrus’ orange magic.

“it’s too much. pull it out, pull it out!”

Papyrus stroked Sans’ tear-streaked cheekbone. “NOT THIS TIME SANS. YOU DIDN’T LISTEN, SO THIS TIME I’M GOING TO STAY INSIDE OF YOU UNTIL YOU’RE FULL OF MY PUPS. THEN WE’LL BE A HAPPY FAMILY, AND YOU’LL STOP TRYING TO LEAVE.”

Papyrus spoke so matter-of-factly. If only he could make Sans understand… He sighed, pulling his brother close against him. The knot kept their summoned magic locked firmly together the same way that their children would keep their fates locked together in the future.

Papyrus wiped away his brother’s tears, clacking a soft skeleton kiss to his brother’s forehead. He rubbed Sans’ round stomach where the bright orange magic of his cum swirled. Sans’ bones rattled as his body shook with the sobs that wracked him.

He would learn his place eventually. Papyrus would make sure of that.


	11. Two Piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: RottenJoke ship where Sans sees Razz looking super cute in a bikini for the first time

“why don’t you just buy it?” Razzberry, or Razz as most called him, heard a deep voice comment from somewhere behind him. He checked the reflection of his surroundings in the display window of the department store. There! A hot dog vendor on the other side of the street, a skeleton monster like himself, had addressed him.

“DON’T BE RIDICULOUS,” scoffed Razz.

“you come here every afternoon and stare at that same dress in that same window and leave without ever even going inside to even try it on. how am  _i_  the one being ridiculous?” the other skeleton chided him mildly, too-wide grin never leaving his face.

“I COULD NEVER WEAR SOMETHING SO IMPRACTICAL AND DELICATE, NOT WITH MY LIFESTYLE,” explained Razz, averting his already indirect gaze.

Razz ended up wearing the dress on their first date, and the hot dog vendor’s reaction had been worth every penny spent and every moment of insecure reluctance that Razz had experienced trying on and buying the piece. The street vendor, whose name was Sans, finally gave him the push he needed to view his lean ectobody and scarred bones with something like acceptance, maybe even confidence.

Now, two years later, they were celebrating their anniversary at a fancy beach resort. Razz shuffled nervously behind the curtain of the ocean front changing room. Sans waiting outside, already dressed in his swim trunks, holding their gear- an oversized umbrella, huge plush beach towels, and a cooler filled with snacks and beverages to enjoy on the cool pale sand.

“c’mon, Razzy, it’s not like i’ve never seen you in a bathing suit before,” called Sans with a laugh. Razz had indeed worn a variety of swimsuits around Sans before, but he usually favored unisex suits, or a one-piece with a billowing cover-up. This swimwear was much, much different.

Stepping out from behind the curtain, Razz resisted the urge to cross his arms over his exposed body. For once, Sans couldn’t form a single pun or joke. He stood there speechless, mouth hanging open. Razz began to feel self-conscious. He knew he shouldn’t have chosen this revealing bikini.

“WELL, SAY SOMETHING!” he demanded, seconds away from turning around and changing back into his regular clothing.

“you… you look… Razz… wow,” Sans sputtered.

A blush crept up Razzberry’s cheekbones. Sans stared at him, gawking like a monster meeting his idol for the very first time. Every anxious moment, every self-doubting thought was swept away as Sans’ hungry gaze raked his body from top to bottom.

“dammit, Razz, i wanted to relax on this vacation. i’m going to be chasing off flirty tourists all day,” Sans finally managed to joke.

“DO YOU WANT ME TO CHANGE INTO SOMETHING MORE MODEST?” Razz offered.

“oh, hell no,” countered Sans. “i don’t mind running off potential suitors. you’re eye candy, Razz, and i want everyone to know that you’re  _my_  eye candy.”

With those words, Sans wrapped an arm around Razz’s waist and paraded him proudly out onto the beach. Razz had never felt so beautiful or so loved.


	12. Tough Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: A King (Underfell Papyrus lamia bitty) and Chain (Swapfell Papyrus lamia bitty) whose owner has stopped leaving the house and might possibly be ill

Two full-sized lamia bittybones, a Chain and a King, held a hushed conversation in their owner’s kitchen. Not wanting to worry their owner, they reverted to the hisses and chirps that lamias naturally used to communicate.

“Do you feel anything unusual through your SOUL bond?” asked the King as he looked for ingredients in their nearly-bare cupboards. Frustrated, he scribbled a half dozen additional items onto the already lengthy grocery list fastened to the refrigerator by a magnet. Their owner hadn’t gone shopping in weeks, and the King had become increasingly creative with the sparse supplies to keep them all fed.

The Chain took his time in answering, considering the changes that had occurred in his SOUL bond with their owner recently. “It feels heavy,” he says, “not like an illness, but not healthy either.” The Chain gathered their owner’s medications, staring at one of the prescription bottles contemplatively. “I know we shouldn’t pry. They will speak when they feel comfortable, but…” He couldn’t disguise the worry in his voice.

“It can’t wait,” finished the King. The Chain nodded in agreement.

* * *

The two large lamia bitties slithered into their owner’s bedroom, one carrying a tray of hearty homemade soup with crackers, the other carrying the owner’s daily medications and a glass of water. Their owner laid listlessly in their bed, and the two lamias exchanged concerned glances.

Pulling themself into an upright position, the owner accepted the food and medication with a wan smile. The Chain climbed into bed next to them on one side, and the King took up a protective position on the other. Once their owner began to eat, the Chain spoke.

“Have you been feeling alright?” the gold-fanged lamia asked tentatively, not wanting to be confrontational but needing answers.

The owner shrugged halfheartedly. Swallowing their pills, they gave a non-answer: “I guess.”

The King sighed. “You haven’t been leaving the housssse lately, and I fear that if we were not here, you would not take care of yoursssself,” he pointed out as gently as he could.

The owner paused, reflecting on the King’s words. “I just haven’t felt like doing anything lately, and I’m always so tired,” they explained.

Realization dawned on the Chain. “Do you think your medication issss not working assss well anymore?” he suggested, never expecting their owner to burst into tears.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for not telling you, but everything feels so bad, and I just don’t know what to do. I’m so tired, and I just can’t do anything. I’m sorry! I should have told you but I just… couldn’t.”

The full-sized lamia bittybones shushed their owner in unison, closing in to pull them tight in a three-way hug, stroking their hair, rubbing their back, and telling them that everything would be ok.

“We’re here. We’re here,” the two skeleton lamias repeated over and over.

“I’ll call the doctor,” offered the King.

“We’ll take care of you,” comforted the Chain.

The owner cried until they ran out of tears. Sniffling, they promised to confide in their faithful lamias in the future. Adopting the two lamias had been the best decision they ever made, and situations like these just reminded them of the importance of having the King and the Chain to rely on when times were tough.


	13. Sealing the Deal (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: Chain (Swapfell Papyrus lamia) and female owner NSFW.  
> WARNING: sex, oral sex, sexual language

As he prepared to perform his mating display for his beloved female owner, the full-sized Chain couldn’t believe how nervous he felt. He took his time during his courtship of her; she was worth every effort he made and every moment he waited and more. From the very first touch of his tail against her leg to the painstaking hours unearthing a massive geode to present to her, he’d been working towards this moment.

She smiled her patient and radiant smile, and love swelled in his SOUL. He knew she experienced his passion for her through their SOUL bond, but he wanted- no needed- to show her what a worthy mate he could be. He reared up to his full height, and the display began.

Circling his owner like a hungry shark, the Chain flexed his muscular tail, lashing it through the air to show off his speed and strength before using it to lightly caress her cheek. She giggled, the most magical reaction any lamia could ask for. Sliding his hands up the sides of his tail, he spread open his cloaca and let his thick double cocks slip free.

She gasped! She actually gasped in wonder! He blushed hotly as she reached forward, wrapping her delicate, warm hand around one pulsing shaft and stroking it slowly and firmly. The Chain abandoned any further attempts at a display and swept her into his arms and into their shared bedroom.

Laying her carefully onto the bed, the large lamia rubbed the length of his body along hers. She started to remove her clothing, but the amorous skeleton brushed her hands away. He sensually removed each article of clothing from her body, peeling her soaked panties away from her heated pussy last of all.

“What if it doesn’t fit?” she asked him nervously, indicating his eager double cocks. He chuckled, a rich, dark sound that made her shiver.

He only hissed a single word (“Foreplay”) before ducking his skull between her thighs to taste her sweet arousal. He hadn’t taken his time winning her love to rush things now. Instead he settled in to savor her.

She writhed. She screamed. She dug her nails into his skull as his tongue explored her. He swallowed her moans in passionate kisses as his dexterous fingers delved deep within her quivering entrance. She panted and begged, but he dragged out each exquisite moment, bringing her to the precipice of orgasm only to coax her away at the last moment.

When his extensive and thorough foreplay was finally complete, the Chain entered her slowly. The fit was tight, so deliciously tight, that he almost lost control and came immediately. He exhausted her, pounding into her in position after position long into the night until the morning found him supporting her in his powerful coils, her juices dripping down his dual shafts while he filled her with his seed.

She became his true mate at last, falling asleep soon after in his loving, protective arms.


	14. Need to Be Needed, Want to Be Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: A feral Horrortale Sans bitty means a blind homeless woman and become her seeing-eye bitty with fluff

She blended so well with the shadows that he almost didn’t see her in the inky gloom of her surroundings. The Horrortale Sans bitty, a Shears type, scavenged the alley behind the restaurant, searching for discarded foodstuffs or fresh prey, whichever he found first. She listened to him scurry about, silent, unable to see his movements due to her blindness but able to pinpoint his location nonetheless.

“There’s dinner scraps from the steakhouse in the middle dumpster. Some of it’s still warm,” the young woman offered helpfully without even turning her head in the bitty’s direction. He glared at her, suspicious that she might be trying to trap him.

Giving the human a wide berth, the Shears bitty circled the dumpsters and trash cans, sniffing here and poking there. The rats and raccoons had long since departed, having taken their share of the refuse earlier in the night. A tantalizing aroma wafted from the middle dumpster. The little skeleton scratched and scrabbled at the rusted metal, but he couldn’t gain access to the morsels inside.

“Do you need help?” the woman asked, shuffling forward with an awkward gait, hands outstretched in front of her. The feral bittybones darted behind some haphazardly stacked cardboard boxes to hide just in case she decided to attack. She didn’t. Instead she patted the empty air in front of her until one of her hands brushed the corner of the dumpster.

Surely the dim glow of the far-off streetlights was enough for her to detect an object as large as a dumpster, thought the Shears. That’s when he noticed that her eyes were closed.

“you’d be able to see where y’were goin’ if ya opened yer eyes,” growled the Shears bitty from his cardboard fortress. She laughed softly in response, lifting the plastic cover from one side of the garbage receptacle.

“Not likely,” she said. “I’m blind. Eyes open or closed, it all looks like darkness to me.” She rifled around from a moment, and the bitty couldn’t help leaning forward in anticipation. He hadn’t eaten in days, and the scents from the garbage were absolutely mouthwatering.

Peering out from his refuge, the hungry bitty watched the woman fish a bone with a large bit of meat still attached from the dumpster. She crouched down, dangling the prize a few short feet from where he hid.

It was hard to identify the type of meat on the bone. It might be lamb. It might be beef, but the Shears bitty didn’t care what animal it came from. He wanted it badly, so badly, but he did not trust the allegedly blind human. He heard stories on the streets of humans capturing stray bittybones for fighting rings or to sell to science laboratories for experimentation. He avoided those fates by being street smart, and that involved a great deal of mistrust.

As if she sensed his misgivings, the woman sighed and placed the delectable morsel on the ground. She took several steps backwards before addressing him. “I’m not trying to hurt you, but I’ll give you space while you eat if it makes you more comfortable.”

Unable to wait another moment, the starving bitty rushed from his hiding place, grabbed the proffered food, and quickly dragged it back under the cardboard. He tore into the meat with gusto; he hadn’t tasted anything so delicious in his entire life. It wasn’t even moldy!

“so what’re ya doin’ hangin’ out in a place like this?” asked the Shears once the meat had been consumed, licking grease from his phalanges.  _Probably waiting to kidnap unsuspecting Horrortale bitties_ , he thought, gnawing the bone for any possible remaining flavor.

The woman smiled. “I was walking back to the shelter where I’m staying, and I took a wrong turn,” she admitted. “I had to rest a moment and reorient myself. It’s easy to get lost in the city even if you have perfect vision.” She chuckled a bit at the weak joke.

The blind woman’s harmless demeanor didn’t fool the Shears bitty in the slightest, but he never got the chance to confront her about it because thunder crashed overhead, making him jump in fright and bump his skull on the cardboard above him. He hadn’t noticed the gathering thunderclouds in the already dark night sky. Lightning flashed, throwing the alley in sharp relief briefly then plunging it back into darkness. Thunder crashed again, louder this time, and the clouds let loose. Rain poured down hard enough that the Shears bitty’s shelter immediately began to buckle.

Yelping in surprise, the woman spoke quickly to the Shears bitty, making him an offer he couldn’t refuse. “You can’t stay out here in this weather. If you want, you can hop in my satchel, and I’ll take you back to the shelter with me.”

“shelter?” asked the bitty, though he was already unfastening the satchel flap to climb inside. The woman made no effort to touch or grab him, which he appreciated.

“It’s a homeless shelter,” she explained, “but at least it’s dry and warm.”

The Shears bitty grunted his agreement, and the blind woman set off. She walked purposefully, counting her steps and turning corners with confidence.

“stop!” shouted the bitty as she stepped out into the street and right in front of a moving vehicle. The car swerved, narrowly missing her.

“I didn’t even hear it through the rain,” she whispered.

“s’alright,” mumbled the miniature skeleton, “i don’t wanna end up as roadkill any more'n you do.” He blushed, embarrassed by his own good deed. They arrived at the shelter a few moments later. An attendant at the front desk greeted the blind woman, referring to her as Void; she nodded a greeting without pausing on her way to the dormitory area.

Beds lined the walls of the dormitory rooms, some occupied, some empty. A quick count revealed a relatively small number of humans in residence, but their presence still made the Shears bitty nervous. Void noticed his growing unease as she brought sheets and blankets over to make her bed for the night.

“You can sleep up on the bed with me, or if you’re more comfortable keeping a low profile, I can tuck the satchel under the bed and you can sleep there,” suggested Void. The Shears bitty opted to set up his own little camp under the bed. He fell asleep quickly to the sound of rain battering the homeless shelter roof.

Sometime in the early morning hours, movement nearby awakened the Shears bitty. Peering out from his improvised nest, he spotted another human attempting to drag the satchel out from under Void’s bed! Snarling, the Horrortale bitty sank his fangs into the offending hand. When the hand withdrew, the bitty followed it, confronting its owner with further snarls.

“takin’ what ain’t yers is a good way to lose a hand,” he growled. Without a word, the thief fled, and the bittybones returned to his temporary satchel home, pretending he didn’t hear the softly whispered “Thank you” from the bed above him.

The next morning dawned with a clear sky, warm golden sunlight, and not a rain cloud in sight. The Shear bitty emerged from the satchel to see Void’s upside down face greeting him as she leaned over the bed.

“Would you like to join me for breakfast? I wash dishes at a local diner, and the owner lets me eat breakfast there before I start my shift. It’s all I can really offer to repay you for your help last night.” She didn’t mention which she was thanking him for- saving her from the car or protecting her belongings- but it made no difference to the ravenous bitty. He never said no to a free meal.

The little skeleton rode in the satchel on the three-block trip to the diner. On the way, he and Void struck a mutually beneficial bargain. Void would keep him fed and sheltered if he would be her seeing-eye bitty. The job sounded easy enough, and the payoff was well worth it. Void gave him a big slice of ham for breakfast with a promise of more food later! Eating twice in a single day? Unheard of in his former life!

The Shears bitty and his human companion settled into a routine that evolved as their relationship with each other progressed. The bitty eventually moved from sleeping in the satchel to claiming a spot on Void’s pillow next to her. With a service bitty to help her, Void found a better paying job. She even moved in with a friend from her workplace a few months after the two of them started dating. As her living situation improved, so did the Shears bitty’s.

As time passed, Void worked her way up to a job in which she didn’t really need an assistance bitty to help her. She assured the Shears bitty that he would always be welcome at her workplace, but he could also stay home if he preferred a life of leisure. The formerly feral bitty never could’ve imagined the life he had now: a home with all of the amenities he could ask for, including all of the food he could eat, with no expectation of repayment.

The Shears bitty missed Void’s company though, and he often chose to accompany her to the workplace. Watching her work without his help only made him feel more useless and out-of-place in her new life though. One night, he overheard a conversation that confirmed his deeply rooted and entirely new fear of abandonment and loneliness.

“I don’t know why you keep that creepy bittybones around. If you feel like you still need a service bitty, we could get you a  _real_  one.” The voice belonged to Void’s significant other, and it drifted from the kitchen into the bedroom where the Shears bitty laid curled up on Void’s pillow.

“He’s not creepy,” Void’s voice insisted, “and honestly, I really don’t need a service bitty anymore anyway.” The Shears bitty froze. Void didn’t need him anymore. Dejected, the Horrortale bitty trudged across the mattress to the bedroom window.

“You’re lucky you can’t see him, Void,” the significant other continued. “He’s got a gaping hole in his skull. He has an eerie red eyelight that glows in the dark, and his other socket is blank and empty. He is one hundred percent creepy.”

Exerting every bit of strength he possessed, the small skeleton managed to push the window open a few inches, just enough for him to escape back to his old life… a life where he didn’t need to fear being rejected by someone he had begrudgingly come to care about.

“You’re right, I am lucky I can’t see him. Thanks to my blindness, instead of judging him based solely on his appearance, I can judge him based on his actions. He protected me and helped me when I needed him most. I fed him, sure, but he could find food on his own. He didn’t need me, but I needed him, and he was there for me. How could you even suggest that I replace him?” Void spoke with a quiet passion that touched the Shears bitty down to his very SOUL, but she wasn’t done speaking yet.

“I would rather be homeless again than get rid of my darling Shears.”

Lowering the window, the Shears bitty climbed back up onto Void’s pillow. He feigned sleep when she entered the room, but she knew his breathing patterns too well and wasn’t fooled in the slightest.

Void laid down on the bed, placing her head on the pillow next to him. “I was so scared that you left. I’m glad you stayed.”

Of course she’d heard him opening the window; Void had excellent hearing. Wiggling closer to her, he nuzzled her cheek.

“me too.”


	15. The Lamia Next Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: A Papython (UT!Papyrus lamia bitty) and Pygmy (US!Sans lamia bitty) courting each other

Moving Day came and went without a hitch, and the full-sized Pygmy bitty zoomed into the new house immediately after his owner unlocked and opened the front door. The evening sun lit each room with soft, warm ambience, and the energetic lamia bitty was ready to explore after sitting still in his car basket for so long.

“Go find yourself a nice sunny window that we can put your basking shelf on,” his owner called after him.

Zipping from living room to bathroom to bedroom, the Pygmy hoisted himself up onto each window sill to check the view. The frosted bathroom window didn’t appeal to him, and the living room window faced the front yard and road…  _boring!_  Peering out the bedroom window, the Pygmy didn’t see anything of interest though the sun would shine through nicely in the morning to warm his basking shelf.

The lamia huffed in disappointment as he climbed up onto the kitchen counter to investigate the bay window overlooking the overgrown landscaping in the backyard. He would have plenty of opportunities to play outside while his owner worked to tame the wild brush and spruce up the garden. A decorative brickwork wall separated the Pygmy and his owner’s yard from their neighbor’s, and peeking over that wall was the small skull and shy smile of a full-sized Papython bitty.

The Pygmy waved tentatively and squeaked in excitement when the Papython returned the gesture. The simple act of nonverbally saying hello was the beginning of a strong friendship and eventual romance.

* * *

The two lamia bittybones met on top of the little brick wall in the afternoon the next day while the Pygmy’s owner lugged in boxes and unpacked their belongings. When the exhausted human paused to rest, they took a few minutes to watch the two lamia bittybones  The Pygmy and the Papython leaned in toward each other, backs to the bay window, while the Papython pointed out objects of interest in his yard.

A few hours later, the owner looked out the bay window again and noticed that the two lamias had their tails entwined. They smiled. Moving had turned out to be a welcome and fortuitous change for them  _and_  their beloved Pygmy.

The next morning, the Pygmy and his owner shared a breakfast of blueberry pancakes on their newly unpacked plates. The lamia held up a pancake, soaked with butter and syrup. “Extra pancake pleasssse?” he asked.

“Of course. I didn’t realize that you were so hungry today. I can make more if you want,” the owner replied. A pale blue-green blush crept over the Pygmy’s round cheekbones.

“Issss not for me,” he said, embarrassed. “Issss for friend.”

_Oh._  The owner tried not to grin too widely. The bay window would be hosting the daily romance show of their darling full-sized Pygmy finding himself a bondmate. They wondered if they should go next door and introduce themselves to the neighbor who owned the Papython. Would it be too soon? Would it embarrass the lamias? Maybe it would be better to wait.

Afternoon sunshine poured into the bay window, and the Pygmy’s owner watched him scale the wall, pancake in tow. The Papython soon crested his side of the wall, carrying a beautifully decorated cupcake. Apparently, the Papython intended to court the Pygmy as well. They exchanged snacks, munching companionably, basking in the warm, golden rays with their tails firmly clasped together.

Sunning on the garden wall became a daily occurrence for the Pygmy and the Papython, supervised from the kitchen window by the Pygmy’s owner. Sometimes the two lamias disappeared over the wall to explore the Papython’s yard. Some days they played in the overgrown landscaping of the Pygmy’s yard, but they always spent the afternoon sharing their lives with each other.

* * *

The scrabbling of tiny bone phalanges against cardboard awoke the Pygmy’s owner a few weeks after the big move. Groaning, they rolled out of bed to find the Pygmy digging frantically through the few unpacked boxes that had found their way to the back of the bedroom closet.

“You looking for something specific?” the owner grumbled squinting at the Pygmy with tired eyes as he toppled a box, spilling some sports balls onto the floor.

“Zoomy car,” answered the Pygmy, already bent over into another box, tossing his older toys and blankets left and right. Zoomy car, a toy car that when pulled backwards and released would shoot away in a straight line, had been a favorite of the Pygmy’s as a hatchling.

“I didn’t think you still played with that,” the owner commented, staggering out of bed and over to a bookshelf. They retrieved the little car from the top shelf where it parked among the knickknacks and handed it to the lamia.

“Issss gift,” admitted the flustered Pygmy. His owner just nodded and held the door open for him to slither outside and wait for the Papython to come to the garden. Pouring themselves some cereal, the owner watched the gift exchange.  _Stage three,_  they thought.  _It seems things are going well for those two_.

The Pygmy bitty hid the zoomy car behind his back, and when the Papython appeared on top of the brick wall, it seemed he hid a gift behind his back as well. They revealed the items at the same time. The Papython received the treasured Zoomy Car, and the Pygmy was presented with an ornate silk rose that matched the color of his scales beautifully. The Pygmy’s owner nodded in approval from inside the house.

Both lamias disappeared into some untrimmed shrubbery soon after the successful gifting, and the Pygmy’s owner made themselves busy away from the window in case the bitties wanted some privacy. The Pygmy returned home late that night and went straight to bed with a bare minimum of zooming but a contented smile on his adorable face.

The Pygmy’s owner didn’t pry into the relationship at the kitchen table the next morning. Human and bitty shared breakfast as usual before enjoying some laser pointer shenanigans. At the usual time in the early afternoon, the Pygmy went outside into the garden to meet his newly declared bondmate. A few hours later, someone knocked on their door.

A stranger stood on the front steps of their new house, holding up the Pygmy and the Papython, who nuzzled each other affectionately, both faces glowing brightly with blush in complementary colors.  _This must be the Papython’s owner,_ thought the Pygmy’s owner, followed by  _wow they’re kind of cute_.

“I should have stopped by sooner,” the Papython’s owner apologized, “but I just found these two enthusiastically evicting my socks out of my dresser drawer and discussing whether it would be a suitable place for a clutch of eggs. I think we may need to sit down and talk this over to make sure we’re all on the same page.”  They laughed awkwardly, and the Pygmy’s owner responded with a nervous giggle of their own.

“Why don’t you come inside. I’ll make blueberry pancakes,” offered the Pygmy’s owner. It had worked for their lamia bitty after all.


	16. Taboo for Two (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: Sub classic Papyrus getting off on the taboo of incest/fontcest  
> Contains: NSFW, language, sexual content, masturbation, voyeurism, panty theft/sniffing, fontcest

Sans cursed his luck when he found his brother’s dirty clothes hamper empty. Of course Papyrus would be up with the sunrise to do his laundry before leaving to train with Undyne. Still, Sans knew that Papyrus kept his lacy underwear on hangers in his closet, and though they were clean, they would do in a pinch to satisfy Sans’ dirty fantasies.

The front door opened while Sans was still browsing the selection, and his brother’s boot steps coming up the stairs left him no time to do anything other than hide, sliding the closet door shut behind him and leaving only a slim crack to peek out of so that he would know when the coast was clear to escape.

Sans got more than he bargained for. Papyrus immediately began stripping down out of his battle body. He peeled his form-fitting bodysuit away from his damp and sweaty bones and tossed it into the hamper along with a pair of delightfully dirty panties. Sans would definitely be grabbing those on his way out.

Sans expected Papyrus to head to the bathroom for a shower, but the tall skeleton laid down on his bed instead. Odd, Papyrus didn’t take naps… or sleep at all really. An orange glow lit the room, and Sans blinked in surprise. A luscious, glistening pussy had formed in Papyrus’ pelvic inlet. Sans shifted in the closet, trying to hide the blue glow forming in his basketball shorts in response.

Still wearing his gloves, Papyrus slid his hands down to gently tease his entrance, but he kept his gaze averted. Lifting his brother’s lacy underwear to his nasal cavity, Sans inhaled deeply and let one of his own hands drift down into his pants. He never even knew that Papyrus masturbated, and he briefly wondered what his brother liked to fantasize about. He found out soon enough.

“Better Hurry Before Sans Get Home,” mumbled Papyrus, spreading his puffy lips and rubbing his fingers up and down the exposed slit. He whimpered as his thumb brushed his clit. “What Would He Think If He Saw Me Doing This?” Apparently the thought of Sans seeing him “doing this” just spurred him on to rub himself faster.

“i’d think it was hot,” Sans whispered too quietly for Papyrus to hear, wrapping a hand around his hard cock and pumping it slowly. He had no idea how much sexual stamina Papyrus had, and he didn’t want to finish too early.

“What Would Sans Think If He Knew I Touched Myself To Thoughts Of-”

_Oh, boy, time to discover the secret!_

“- Him Fucking Me,” Papyrus moaned, slipping a gloved phalange into his slick pussy all the way to the base. His spine arched off of the bed at the sudden pleasure inundating his body. The noises he made as he fingered himself were the sweetest torment to his eavesdropping brother.

“He’d Be Disgusted.” Another finger joined the first, and Papyrus’ breathing became ragged as he plunged them in and out of himself rapidly. Fuck.

“I’m Disgusting. I’m So Dirty. Nyeh,” Papyrus panted, lifting his hips up off of the bed and closing his sockets as he worked his pussy fervently with two fingers. “I Want My Brother’s Cock So Badly,” he mewled. “What Kind Of Monster Masturbates To Thoughts Of His Own Brother?” Papyrus’ hips bucked against his hand, emitting lewd squelches as he approached orgasm.

“i do,” said Sans casually, stepping out of the closet with his throbbing cock in his hand. “now tell me again how badly you want your brother’s cock.”


	17. Doing His Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: A "bad owner" visits the Lamia Bittybones Adoption Center in search for some test subjects for experiments. Featuring Honey the Pappy puppypapri. Puppypapri are an adoptable type designed by [nyehtish](http://nyehtish.tumblr.com) on Tumblr (a NSFW blog).

The Lamia Bittybones Adoption Center connected human and monster adopters of all shapes and sizes with lamia bitty companions that matched their personalities. No two adoptions, and no two days in the shop for that matter, were ever the same. Honey the Pappy puppypapri waited attentively at the front desk on a crisp autumn morning, waiting to see what the new day would bring.

The bell above the door jingled. Honey perked up, ready for his first customer of the day. Vex left him in charge today, and he wanted more than anything to do a good job. The visitor approached the desk, but before Honey could so much as utter a greeting, a feeling of dread swept through him. The person who had entered shop had an aura of darkness surrounding them that chilled Honey to the marrow.

The young puppypapri couldn’t stop himself from shrinking away from the stranger when they stepped in front of the desk. His reaction only made them laugh, a dark and humorless sound.

“Aww, there’s no reason to be scared of me,” said the person kindly, then suddenly their tone changed and they yelled ”BOO!” at him, causing his ears to shoot straight up in the air in fright.

“C’mon, little guy, I’m just playing around,” the person said, slapping Honey on the shoulder.

Honey hated the way the sensation of their unwanted touch lingered on his arm. He wondered if he should call Vex, but she trusted him to take care of the shop, and that meant handling any adoption request that came through the door, even if the person creeped him out. He vowed to show them around, do the very best job he could do, and make Mama Vex proud of him.

Regaining his composure, Honey told the potential adopter to follow him. He led them over to the Mamba nests first, hoping that the confident and cocky lamia bittybones could handle the stranger’s abrasive mannerisms. The puppypapri began his memorized speech about Mamba characteristics and care while the Mambas took up positions for their individual displays, but the visitor interrupted them, jabbing the nearest Mamba in the ribcage with an invasive forefinger.

“Are these ones venomous?” they asked, jabbing the Mamba several more times with the offending finger.

Honey watched the irritation on the Mamba’s features transform into outrage. He grabbed the rude stranger’s hand and pulled them away quickly before the Mamba had a chance to demonstrate just how venomous he was. Good Boys did not let an adopter get bitten by an angry Mamba, no matter how much the situation justified it. Maybe it would be better if he introduced the visitor to a more even-tempered lamia?

Keeping a tight grip on the stranger’s hand lest they decide to try their poking tactic on a grumpy Coral or a King, Honey escorted them to the play pools in the rear of the shop to introduce them to the Kraits. The Kraits never bit anyone. Honey sincerely hoped it would stay that way.

The visitor seemed to be very interested in the Kraits. When the black and white banded lamias crowded around to meet them, they crouched down to get a better view. Honey breathed a sigh of relief which was cut short by the person grabbing a Krait by the tip of his tail and lifting him into the air! Honey snatched the Krait away from them, unable to believe their inappropriate behavior.

“These are the ones with the Void venom right?” the visitor asked, reaching out to pick up another Krait. The usually friendly lamia bittybones scattered. Frowning, the person leaned in and used an outstretched finger to yank at the mouth of the Krait Honey held, exposing the Krait’s fang. The Krait wiggled free and buried his face in Honey’s shirt. Honey had had enough!

“How many of these can I order?” the oblivious jerk asked.

“None!” Honey shouted, setting the terrified Krait down. He planted his little paws and straightened his back, puffing out his chest and facing the stranger, though they towered over him even at his full height. “You can’t have any lamia bittybones!”

The person’s calm demeanor melted away into the crackling tension of barely restrained violence. They stepped forward aggressively, invading Honey’s personal space and attempting to force him backwards, but Honey stood his ground, even when they loomed over him, looking down their nose and sneering: “Yeah, what are you going to do about it, pipsqueak?”

Honey fought off the urge to retreat, to tremble, to hide. Instead, he placed his hands on his hips and matched the stranger glare for glare. “If you don’t leave right now, I’ll… I’ll bite you!” Honey growled, showing off his very small but very sharp teeth.

The stranger snorted derisively. Honey thought he had failed, and he didn’t know what else to do. Would they attack him? Would they kidnap the Kraits? Angry tears welled up in Honey’s sockets; he felt powerless. In a last desperate attempt to protect the denizens of the shop, Honey flailed his little paws in what he hoped was a competent and dangerous manner.

The person suddenly went pale and began to back away, nearly falling into one of the pools before turning and fleeing from the shop entirely. Honey hurried to the door and watched them running down the sidewalk as fast as their legs would carry them. Honey stared down at his paws in silent wonder. He did it! He defended the shop while Mama Vex was away, and his legs were only shaking a little bit!

“And don’t come back,” Honey whispered under his breath. Walking back to the front desk, Honey treated himself to two of his Good Boy candies. He’d sure earned them today!

Unbeknownst to Honey, Vex and Waffle had arrived back at the shop just in time to see the stranger terrorizing Honey and the Kraits. Waffle tried to lunge forward to help Honey, but Vex stopped him. It would damage Honey’s confidence to be rescued. Still, when the person had glanced up over the top of Honey’s head, they’d seen two gleaming crimson eyelights framed by an imposing cobra hood.

Though the bully had no qualms about picking on Honey, they certainly didn’t want to cross a massive lamia like Waffle. As soon as the intruder made their escape, Waffle melted back into the shadows, allowing Honey to claim the victory. Waffle and Vex snuck back out of the shop and circled the block. The person had been unpleasantly surprised to collide with a very disapproving, extremely large full-sized King lamia.

After giving the person a very stern warning to stay away from the adoption center, Vex and Waffle strolled through the rear entrance to the shop, pretending they had just returned. Neither of them mentioned seeing the stranger or Honey’s display of courage. When Vex asked if anything had happened in their absence, Honey smiled to himself, and answered simply:

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”


	18. The Things We Do for Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: An owner takes a bullet for their full-sized King (UF!Papyrus and king cobra hybrid) lamia bitty  
> Contains: injury, mild blood, mild angst

It was late, and you just wanted to get home, crawl into bed, and sleep. Unfortunately, your options were limited. You could call for a taxi or an Uber and wait, or you could walk. Walking presented its own set of pros and cons though. Sure, you would get home quickly, but only if you walked through the bad part of town instead of going around it.

At least you wouldn’t be walking alone. Having your full-sized King lamia beside you made the prospect of walking through a bad neighborhood much less daunting. If anything happened, your fierce and loyal companion could protect you. After a brief discussion with the King, you decided to take the direct route home.

* * *

The massive lamia slithered down the sidewalk ahead of you, his skull swinging from side to side in an attempt to see, sniff, and hear in every direction at once. Though the King tended to be calm and collected in every situation, you noticed that his hood was half-flared as you approached a dark alley with broken glass spilling out of it. He stopped abruptly, holding out one hand to keep you from moving forward. You opened your mouth to ask him what was going on, but everything happened at once and you never got the chance.

Time slowed to a crawl. The events unfolding felt so far away, so unreal; your brain refused to process it.

Sneakers scraped concrete, and a scruffy man lurched out of the shadows of the alley. Moonlight glinted on metal; the man had a gun. He lifted it to point at you and your lamia with shaking hands, muttering under his breath about a wallet, money, credit cards. You couldn’t make any sense of the man’s words or your full-sized King’s outraged hiss.

Brick red scales with skull markings blocked your vision. You heard a crack. You lunged forward before you even realized that your feet had moved. Screaming, so much screaming. The world turned upside down. The last thing you saw was your beloved King’s stricken face before colors blurred and blended together, fading to black.

* * *

He would’ve taken the bullet for you; he would’ve taken a hail of bullets for you without a moment’s hesitation or regret. Since the day he first met you- the day you chose him, the day you filled out his adoption papers with a glowing smile full of promises for the future- the King knew that he would willingly and gladly protect you with his very life if necessary, and now you laid bleeding in his arms after sacrificing yourself to protect him.

The lamia held you close to his chest, willing with all of his SOUL for you to hold on, to survive. He could hear distant sirens approaching; someone must’ve called the cops. He bowed his head, tears dripping from the corners of his sockets to mingle with the red stain slowly spreading across your shirt.

Another crack rang out, and pain exploded in the lamia’s shoulder. He ignored the sting, raising his head to glare at the shooter with murderous intent. If the man had fled, he might’ve escaped the King’s wrath. His foolish persistence would be his downfall.

The King slashed with his tail, not loosening his hold on you. Two more bullets tore through his flesh before he knocked the man to the ground. The gun slipped from his grasp, skittering across the pavement. The King’s crimson eyelights blazed, reflecting in the man’s eyes as he stared into the hellfire of his fate.

Bone fangs sank into the man’s neck, nearly crushing his windpipe, to pump poison into his bloodstream.

Red, blue, and white lights flashed, piercing the night. Police shouted, and the King backed away from the man, tilting your unconscious body to show the police that you needed help… desperately. An ambulance pulled up behind the police cruisers, and they waved the EMTs forward. Your loyal lamia placed you carefully on the stretcher, letting the professionals go to work. He declined their offers to check his own wounds, preferring that they focus on your care.

An officer standing over the shooter turned to the full-sized lamia, asking if he had any anti-venom. The cop explained that the man could be revived, arrested, and brought to justice properly. The King nodded. He always carried anti-venom with him in case of an accidental or misdirected bite.

The injured lamia pulled the small glass vial of life-saving anti-venom out of his jacket pocket. Holding it out to the relieved officer, he let it slip from his fingers to shatter on the concrete. The assailant’s life was one that he would not save. He leveled an unapologetic stare at the officer for several long moments before turning away to join you in the ambulance. The EMTs reassured him that you would recover, and he finally let out a long sigh of relief.

You would live.

Closing his sockets slowly and resting his tired skull against your shoulder, he allowed the medics to treat his injuries at last.


	19. What Do You Mean It Isn't a Bitty Bath?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: A King (Underfell Papyrus and king cobra type) lamia bitty adjusting to his new home.

Life seldom turns out the way you expect it to. As a young miniature King fresh out of the nursery, he’d considered himself invincible, unflappable, a prime example of all things noble and heroic. It came as no surprise that you adopted him mere days later. Who could resist his dapper charm and fierce display? As soon as you opened the door to the home he would be sharing with you, the King set out to explore his new kingdom. You tagged along behind him- his admiring entourage of one.

The curious King lamia bitty climbed furniture, poking his face into every nook and cranny to take in the entirety of his surroundings. He slithered confidently into your bedroom, planning to claim a corner of the bed as his nest when movement caught his eye. Flaring his hood, he whirled only to see another King glaring at him menacingly! A shocked expression crossed the other King’s face, a mirror image of his own features.

Realization dawned on the King in seconds. He raised a hand; the other King mimicked the motion. He wiggled his tail, and the other King did the same. Extending a hand, the King tapped the hard surface of a mirrored door on your closet. His own reflection had startled him. His angular cheekbones flared with an embarrassed blush. Maybe you hadn’t seen his reaction…?

A choked laugh from the doorway behind him dashed the King’s hopes for some iota of remaining dignity. His hood drooped, but you hurried over to comfort him. How many times had you woken up at night only to have your own sleep distorted image frighten you? You reassured him that he’s still your precious, amazing King, and he relaxed.

That night he slept in your bed, snuggled against the warmth of your body to protect you from any pesky nightmare images that might appear in the mirror’s silvery surface.

The next day you needed to run errands, and you promised the King that you wouldn’t be gone long. You preferred for him to stay at the house for now until you had time to take him on a proper tour of the neighborhood. You also wanted to surprise him with some new items to make your home feel more like his home too- some extra blankets, clothing, and maybe a few new books to read together during quiet evenings at home.

Confidence restored by a good night’s sleep, the King waved you away. The excitement of yesterday left him tired today, and staying around the house sounded perfect. Shortly after you left, the King paid a visit to the bathroom. He glanced briefly into the empty bathtub. Such a large basin must be designed for a full-sized human or monster. Surely he didn’t require that much water to clean himself. Fortunately, he discovered a smaller, lidded tub next to the sink, already filled with water!

The temperature of the water was a bit chillier than he liked, but the King had to admit that humans were particularly clever for inventing a bath that could be emptied and refilled with the push of a lever. A splash of your bubble bath and a quick flush created a nice, relaxing (if a bit cold) soak for the King.

You called out to your King when you arrived home, and he answered you from the bathroom. The smell of your favorite bubble bath tickled your nostrils. You smiled, imagining the King running himself a warm, fragrant bath and then wrapping himself in a plush towel to dry off afterwards. You step into the bathroom holding up a new outfit that you purchased for him to find him splashing about happily… in the toilet.

You lifted the miniature King out of the toilet with one of the aforementioned plush towels, rubbing him dry and wrapping him up for extra warmth. Setting him on the bed you showed him all of the gifts you brought him. He investigated each item, beaming and thanking you profusely. You hated to ruin the moment, but you couldn’t keep letting him bathe in the toilet.

You explained the function of a toilet for human beings, watching the look of joy on his face slowly transition to an expression of utter horror and disgust. You managed to hold back your laugh this time, and when he insisted on taking a proper bath in the actual bathtub, you even ran the water for him and helped him scrub his scales.

The King woke up early the next morning. He wanted to make things up to you after the bathroom fiasco of the previous day. Maybe he could try cooking? He knew you had some cookbooks in the kitchen; he saw them on his original exploration. Climbing up onto the counter, the King leafed through the cookbook pages, finally settling on a simple recipe for pancakes. It took him awhile, but he gathered the necessary ingredients, measured them carefully into a bowl, and stirred them until they were the correct consistency. He lifted a pan onto the stovetop to cook his pancakes in and turned on the burner.

Flames erupted underneath the pan. The terrified King leapt backwards, knocking the bowl of pancake batter off of the counter and onto the floor. Fire licked greedily at the pan and the King panicked, racing into the bedroom and shaking you awake with cries of “FIRE! FIRE!”

You scrambled out of bed, legs tangling in the sheets and causing you to faceplant onto the floor. The King pointed towards the kitchen, and you rushed in to take care of the fire only to discover that your gas stove was operating normally.

Sighing in relief, you informed your King that he had  _not_  almost burned down the house at all. Instead, you taught him how to operate the stove, explaining how the fire came from gas lit by a pilot light. The knobs on the stove controlled the gas output, but even at the highest setting, the flames didn’t escape the burner. Together, you and your lamia mixed up a fresh batch of pancake batter and had a nice fluffy short stack each for breakfast.

* * *

The King thought back on his first few days as your bitty with a nostalgic grin. A few weeks had passed since then, and the two of you had settled into a happy life together. He no longer bathed in the toilet. He learned how to cook a variety of delicious meals that he often prepared right alongside you in the kitchen. He accompanied you on your errands wearing the badass leather jacket you gave him, helping you navigate the twists and turns of the now-familiar neighborhood… but he never stopped guarding you from the mirrored closet.

He gave your shadowy reflection in the shiny surface one last warning glare before tucking himself into your arms and falling asleep.


	20. Hoarders: Lamia Bitty Edition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: A person who hoards Chain (SF!Papyrus) lamia bittybones and loves them all

Some people are cat people, and some people are dog people. Some people prefer companions that require slightly less emotional attachment such as fish or hermit crabs. Others might enjoy exotic animals like brightly colored birds or fuzzy jungle spiders. My childhood neighbor had different tastes however. While other people on our block might be little old cat ladies or own packs of yippy pocket dogs, she collected lamia bittybones.

More specifically, our neighbor had SOUL bonded with a varied group of Chain bittybones- gold-fanged lamias that seemed to take the place of a husband and children that she never bothered to have. what she did have were Chains of all shapes and sizes, and one of my earliest memories of her was watching several miniature Chains enthusiastically welcoming her home while some full-sized Chains carried her groceries inside for her.

The Chains found her wherever she went, and by the time I entered high school, she must have had at least two dozen of them. I asked her about them once, about how overwhelming it must be to have a SOUL bond with so many different lamia bitties, but she just laughed. She told me that each bond felt different. She knew them apart just by the way their SOULs sang to her, every melody as beautiful and unique as the Chain it belonged to.

In my senior year, she broke her ankle and briefly stayed in the local hospital. The exasperated emergency room staff (including my mother) tried to enforce the two visitors at a time rule, but the Chains would not be stopped from visiting her. They crowded the waiting room to alternate shifts of watching her while some of them snuck in through air vents or simply teleported to her bedside. She even found another one to adopt there, hiding in a bouquet of Get Well Soon flowers that her loyal, scaly entourage brought for her.

As I loaded up my mother’s car to leave for my freshman year at the university, I remember seeing her in the garden, accompanied by her Chains, more than thirty of them by then. She talked and laughed with them as they worked side-by-side (by side by side) in the freshly turned soil. The smaller Chains slithered through the bushes and flower beds, pulling up offending weeds and showing her their handiwork in exchange for her delighted praise. The larger Chains lifted heavy bags of mulch and river pebbles, never allowing her to do any work that might strain her.

The lamias practically glowed with joy out there in the garden, helping her work. I wondered if anyone would ever look at me the way each and every one of those Chains looked at her. They lived for her. They would die for her. She was their world, and they were hers.

Those sobering thoughts returned to me a few years after I graduated when I stopped by my childhood home to visit my mother one summer. Watching the hustle and bustle of the neighborhood I grew up in out of the living room window, I spotted our Chain loving neighbor. Age bowed her back, and her hoard of Chains slithered slowly along beside her as she slowly shuffled through her garden with the help of a walker.

My mind swirled fitfully as I scratched my own Chain, dozing happily in my lap. He’d fallen out of the roof tiles in one of my graduate courses, right into my lap… and into my heart. He became my world, and I became his. When we left this life, we would leave it as we had lived it- together.

But what about my neighbor? She had almost three dozen Chains… would they truly all dust when she passed away? How could she bear that knowledge?

I spoke my thoughts aloud, and my mother smiled. She told me to wait until the weekend, then watch out the window and my melancholy questions would be answered.

Saturday arrived, and I sat in front of the window as the sun soared into the mid-afternoon sky, waiting on tenterhooks for the answers I sought. A car pulled up in front of my neighbor’s house and a small girl hopped out. I recognized her grand-niece more from context than by her features. I hadn’t seen her since she was a wrinkly-faced, swaddled baby fresh from the hospital.

Each and every Chain slithered out of the house alongside my neighbor to greet the little girl with smiles and hugs. I knew right away what my mother had meant. Of course my neighbor would never let her beloved Chains fade away to dust. She had made arrangements for them by introducing them to her niece.

I watched with a satisfied smile. Three dozen pairs of deep orange eyelights regarded the little girl with that same adoring stare that they gave her great-aunt.


	21. It's Not What It Sounds Like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is completely SFW, I promise!

Edge stalked confidently through the book stacks of the library like a predatory large cat surveying its jungle kingdom, on his way to an illicit rendezvous with the librarian in charge of local records, a queen in her own right though her kingdom was comprised of musty ledgers and microfiche. A mischievous smile spread across her dainty lips when she spotted him emerging from the floor-to-ceiling shelves to lounge casually yet elegantly against the front of her desk.

“I HOPE YOU’RE READY FOR THIS, HUMAN,” Edge rumbled in his husky voice.

“You know I could lose my job if we get caught,” she replied, not backing down, eyes roving his lithe body as if searching for something. Edge didn’t keep her waiting for long.

“THE RISK OF GETTING CAUGHT SIMPLY ADDS TO THE THRILL.”

With those words, he pulled it out, letting it drop to the desktop with a soft thump. Her eyes widened and she gasped in wonder despite a sign reading “Quiet Please” prominently positioned on the desk. She reached out a tentative hand, hesitating at the last moment and meeting his intimidating crimson stare shyly.

“May I touch it?”

“PLEASE DO.”

The librarian made small sounds of utter delight, stroking its entire length over and over. Edge smirked. Circling around until he stood behind her, looming over her petite frame, he nudged her until she bent forward fully over the desk. “I THINK THIS POSITION IS A BIT BETTER, DON’T YOU?” he purred in her ear, the breath accompanying his words teasing a few strands of hair loose from her tight bun.

“NOW TOUCH IT-” he guided her small, delicate hands with his larger ones, scars criss-crossing the bones from numerous fistfights he’d won over the years “-HERE… JUST LIKE THAT.”

She surrendered to his control, allowing him to lead her hands to all of the best spots. She mewled at the oh so perfect pleasure of their tandem movements. She felt his deep chuckle reverberating along her spine. Obviously he was enjoying it too.

“I never knew something so simple could be so good,” she whispered breathlessly. When she finished, he carefully tucked it away, out of sight once more. This area of the library might be deserted, but he didn’t want it to be on display for just anyone who happened by. “We’ve got to do this again. I don’t even care if I get fired.”

Edge returned her smile. “ANY TIME YOU’RE IN THE MOOD, JUST CALL ME.”

“Now?” she teased hopefully.

The towering skeleton peeked into the front of his jacket for a moment before lifting Doomfanger out again and depositing the fluffy white cat on the librarian’s desk once more. He’d known the librarian wouldn’t be able to resist Doomfanger’s feline wiles.

Nobody could, not even a gruff battle-worn skeleton like himself.


	22. The First Time (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: RottenJoke ship, Undertale Sans and Swapfell/Fellswap Sans first time sex with aftercare  
> Contains: sexual themes, sexual content, nothing explicit

Sans breathed in ragged gasps, stroking Razz’s tongue with his own to the rhythm of his frantic thrusting. The tips of Razz’s phalanges scraped his scapulas, gripping him tightly as they moved together towards the precipice of orgasm.

“fuck… fuck Razz you’re… so tight… i can’t… i’m gonna cum!”

Razz could only respond with a wordless mewl of pleasure, and Sans slammed into him one final time, hips shuddering as he emptied himself deep inside his boyfriend’s tight little hole. Razz threw his head back and cried out as his own orgasm ripped through him.

Trembling from aftershocks of the orgasm, Razz nestled against Sans’ ribcage. Sans wrapped his arms around the fierce little skeleton, the love of his life. Sometimes it was hard to believe that this was even happening, that Razz had accepted him as a boyfriend, that Razz would actually sleep with him, stay with him… love him.

Silence became the brooding third wheel in the bed between the two skeletons. Sans hated to sound so needy, but he desperately wanted some reassurance. “so… how do i measure up?” He could imagine someone like Razz having a slew of handsome, well-endowed boyfriends before him, and it rattled his confidence a bit that Razz hadn’t commented on his love-making performance yet.

“I… DON’T KNOW,” Razz said softly, not reassuring Sans at all. When he saw the disappointed look on his boyfriend’s face, Razz quickly clarified his statement. “I’VE NEVER BEEN WITH ANYONE ELSE.”

The words slowly sank in. “oh Razz,” Sans breathed reverently. “you were a virgin?” The rough, tough skeleton beside him nodded without meeting his eyelights, but Sans spoke without accusation. Razz had given him his virginity- a precious and meaningful gesture that he didn’t take lightly. In fact…

“i’m sorry Razz. if i knew, i would’ve gone slower… been more gentle… taken more time. i didn’t hurt you, did i?” 

Sans’ concern made his boyfriend blush.

“IT HURT A LITTLE,” admitted Razz, “BUT YOU DON’T HAVE TO APOLOGIZE. IT WAS-” he searched for an appropriate word, but only came up with “- AMAZING.”

With uncharacteristic swiftness, Sans did something he rarely ever did and jumped out of bed. He ran into the bathroom, calling over his shoulder to a stunned Razz, still laying in the warmth and comfort of their blankets. “i’ll run a bath, that should help.” The sound of running water and tendrils of steam escaped from the bathroom to sneak into the bedroom where Razz waited, a small smile on his scarred face.

Suddenly, Sans appeared next to him, sweeping him from the bed to carry him to the bath. Bubbles crested the sides of the bathtub, thick and luxurious and smelling of vanilla and lavender. Sans settled into the decadently hot water with Razz still in his arms. He pressed kisses to the side of Razz’s face and down his neck, murmuring sweet endearments to his boyfriend’s ivory bones.

“i wish i had known so i could’ve made your first time special,” Sans whispered, massaging Razz’s aching pelvis under the water.

Razz chuckled softly.

“IT WAS ALREADY SPECIAL BECAUSE IT WAS WITH YOU.”


	23. Grocery Store Grudge Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: A normally pacifist owner protecting their Chain (SF!Papyrus) lamia bitty

The Chain recognized the querulous voice before the speaker even rounded the corner of a produce display to accost whoever might be in earshot. Every time the two of you saw the woman, she was either shouting at her poorly behaved children or complaining loudly about people who could obviously hear her condescending words. The woman’s abrasive attitude made you nervous every time you crossed paths with her, so your Chain dutifully slithered forward to intercept her and redirect her attention.  

The moment she spotted the lamia, she sneered. “Disgusting. I can’t believe they let vermin into grocery stores.”

In the interest of not causing a scene that might give you unnecessary anxiety, the Chain let the woman and her rude comments pass. The toddler in her cart threw a grape at him. It bounced harmlessly off of his skull, and he didn’t even blink. She’d be gone soon, then he could continue helping you pick out groceries for dinner. He considered the idea of asking for a chocolate bar in the checkout lanes. That sounded nice.

The woman, dissatisfied with the Chain’s lack of reaction, elbowed him as she passed, pretending that he had bumped her instead of the other way around. “Beast,” she hissed, recoiling in a highly exaggerated manner. The Chain opened his mouth, intending to apologize to placate the horrid woman, but you weren’t about to let her behavior slide, not this time.

“At least my Chain knows how to behave in a grocery store,” you snapped with a pointed look at her two older children who were screaming and knocking items onto the floor. One of them picked up an apple, bit it, and put it back. Your Chain stood quietly next to you, with his hands folded in front of him, the very definition of well-mannered.

The woman attempted to loom over you intimidatingly, but she was pretty short and didn’t seem to want to get too close to your Chain, who moved closer to you protectively. “Filthy animals belong outside,” she informed you with an air of superiority.

“So what are your kids doing indoors then?” you retorted, and your Chain nearly lost his composure. You almost felt the high five vibes radiating down your SOUL bond. The woman squawked like an unruly parrot, reeling back from the verbal sucker punch.

Her already squinty eyes narrowed in a vicious glare. She reached into her purse and pulled out a bottle of pepper spray, aiming it right for your Chain. The lamia moved, both to avoid the pepper spray and to block you from being hit by it, but you pushed him aside and slapped the pepper spray from the woman’s hand. It clattered to the ground, and the woman lifted her hands like she wanted to shove you in retaliation.

Your Chain hissed, loud and threatening. The toddler began to cry, and the woman started to scream though neither you or the lamia had touched her in any way that wasn’t defensive.

“Management!” she wailed “Security!”

Employees converged on the scene, including a manager and a man wearing a jacket with the word “Security” written on the back. The woman sobbed, pointing an accusing finger at your lamia while you protested, insisting your beloved Chain was innocent.

Once the manager had calmed you and the woman down enough to be heard over the hubbub, he turned to the woman. “Ma’am,” he told her. She smirked, sensing victory. “You’re going to have to leave,” he finished, wiping the smirk off of her face in an instant.

“We’re also going to have to ask you not to return,” added the security guard. The woman’s mouth hung open in shock. The toddler in the cart opened a box of cereal and poured the contents onto the floor.

“And you’re going to have to pay for that.”


	24. And There Was Only One (Extra) Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if, instead of a mix-up causing there to be only one bed to share, the one with the crush tried to arrange for only one bed and there ended up being two? Underfell Papyrus is about to find out.

Edge may have struggled with expressing himself emotionally, especially when it came to dealing with his inexplicable crush on a certain lanky bag of bones, but he prided himself on his expertise in strategy. Edge never left anything to chance; even this road trip to take Stretch to some comedy show in Vegas would serve a purpose towards the gruff skeleton’s goal.

“why so quiet, Edgelord?” the endearing cretin in the passenger seat asked. He had his sneaker-clad feet on the damned dashboard, his hands in the pockets of his orange hoodie, fiddling with what was probably a squeeze bear of honey, and his seat reclined an absolutely ridiculous amount. Edge wanted to punch him. Edge wanted to kiss him. Best to keep his eyelights firmly on the road.

“usually when you drive you spend the entire time shouting obscenities at other drivers,” Stretch continued, strengthening at least one of Edge’s feelings towards him.

“I’M CONCENTRATING ON THE ROAD,” snapped Edge, immediately regretting his shortness with Stretch, “AND I ONLY SHOUT AT THE BAD DRIVERS!”

“i see.” Edge sensed that infuriating smug grin on the other skeleton’s face, that grin he loved and Stretch so often aimed at him, the grin that made him wonder if his secret crush was really a secret to the other skeleton at all.

“IT’S NOT MY FAULT THESE HUMANS DON’T KNOW HOW TO DRIVE!” Edge seethed. Stretch knew exactly how to tease him, and the lanky lazybones made a frequent habit of it.

“are you blushing over there, Edgelord?”

“NO! I NEVER BLUSH! I AM SUFFUSED WITH RAGE!” insisted Edge, convincing nobody. The blushing (and denying it) skeleton gripped the steering wheel so hard that his sharp phalanges dug into the leather. He could see the knowing expression all over Stretch’s stupid handsome face. Why did his magic betray him by rushing to his cheekbones every time Stretch baited him?

Edge wished he had more control of himself during his interactions with Stretch, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it as he pulled their rented car into the parking lot of a roadside motel. Things were about to change. The situation would be under his control and according to his plan from this moment forward. Taking a deep but unnecessary breath, Edge exited the car and fished their overnight bags out of the trunk, the thump of his SOUL deafening as events were finally set into motion.

Sweeping through the door to the lobby with his usual arrogant confidence, Edge strode to the desk with Stretch following along in his wake. The lanky layabout had packed his pajamas into a plastic grocery bag, which shouldn’t have surprised Edge in the least; Edge traveled in style with his clothing for the evening neatly folded and stored in a designer carry-on bag, part of the matching set that he’d purchased for the trip. An attendant waited for them at the front desk with a bland, pleasant smile stamped on her face.

_So far, so good._

The next step would involve a bit of finesse on Edge’s part, but he had been practicing this scenario for weeks, preparing for every possible outcome. The attendant would hand him the keycard for a room with a single queen-sized bed- the room he had booked on the website. Feigning shock, a skill he had honed for this very moment, Edge would claim that there was some sort of mix-up because of course he had booked a room with two beds. If the attendant apologized and offered them the double room, a too-tired-to-deal-with-this-right-now Edge would simply grab the key to the single room, complaining that he is just too tired to bother switching.

_Nothing could possibly go wrong with such a straightforward and effective plan!_

“There’s been some sort of mix-up,” the attendant said apologetically, stealing Edge’s line and his thunder. All the angular skeleton could do was stand at the desk with his mouth agape as the woman blathered on about overbooked single rooms and upgrading them to a double with no extra charge, a speech peppered with the traditional customer service platitudes.

The derailment of the plan short-circuited Edge’s mind, and he recited his rehearsed lines before he could stop himself. “THERE’S BEEN SOME SORT OF MIX-UP,” he repeated, “I BOOKED A DOUBLE.” He realized how idiotic he sounded, but he didn’t know how else to wrest back control of the conversation.

“According to our system, you booked a single, but if you wanted a double then you lucked out!” the attendant chirped.

_Lucked. Out._  The words echoed in Edge’s skull as Stretch chuckled behind him. He drove all this way for nothing. He would sleep alone, then amble around the Vegas Strip while Stretch enjoyed his show only to share an equally long and unbearable (if not moreso) car ride home with the other skeleton.  _For nothing._ He snatched the keycard and stomped down a hallway to their replacement room… a room with  _two_  beds!

Already frustrated, Edge ground his sharp teeth and growled at the keycard which didn’t want to open the damn door of their damn double room. Stretch plucked the keycard from the other skeleton’s shaking phalanges and swiped it once. The light shone green, and the door immediately clicked open. “you’ve just gotta be gentle with it,” Stretch said, giving Edge one of those irresistible smiles again.

“IT’S A DOOR, STRETCH, A DENSE PILE OF ORGANIC MATERIAL, OBLIVIOUS TO YOUR GENTLENESS AND INCAPABLE OF UNDERSTANDING EMOTIONS!”

“exactly.”

Edge pushed past his smirking companion into the room, which was cozy, tastefully decorated, and would’ve been perfect for sharing  _one. Single. Bed._  Stretch’s voice followed him into the room as he threw his luggage on the bed farthest from the door and closest to the window. At least he’d get the bed with the view.

“you’re suffused with rage again, Edgelord.”

_Maddening._

Both skeletons changed into their pajamas. Edge took some comfort in the sensation of blood-red silk sliding against his bones, but of course Stretch had to ruin everything in that irritating yet adorable way of his. Edge liked the way Stretch’s black tank top looked on his long, lean frame, sleek and fitted just as it should be, but Stretch also wore boxer shorts covered in hideous yellow smiley faces that Edge had to force himself to look away from.

How could he wear such ridiculous clothes and not expect the other monster in the room to stare. Why would he wear such an eye-catching garment right over his pelvis? Edge switched off the light to save himself the embarrassment of averting his gaze so obviously, and both skeletons crawled into their respective beds.

The night dragged on. Edge couldn’t sleep. With each passing second the desire to invade his roommate’s bed increased until the sparse distance between their beds became a yawning chasm, mocking him and challenging him to cross it while at the same time promising devastating ruin if he tried and failed. 

Edge tossed and turned in his bed, hating the aching loneliness until finally he gave up on sleeping and began to scheme. He could still turn this to his advantage. He had to do  _something_   or he would explode with pent up affection and probably terrify his crush right out of his life forever.

Despite Edge’s fear that his pacing might awaken Stretch, the other skeleton remained sprawled out on his bed, hopelessly entangled in the blankets, snoring and drooling with gusto. On his third cagey tour around the small motel room, an idea formed in his mind that could salvage the trip completely. 

Edge crept into the bathroom, turning on the faucet, splashing some water and flushing the toilet a few times for good measure. Edge left the bathroom in a carefully coordinated stumble through the darkened room. He collapsed theatrically on Stretch’s bed, making sure to bounce the mattress enough to cause Stretch to stir and make room for him.

“ya missed your bed by about six feet, Edgelord,” grumbled Stretch into his pillow.

“I MUST HAVE GOTTEN DISORIENTED ON MY WAY BACK FROM THE BATHROOM. CURSE THESE UNFAMILIAR SURROUNDINGS,” Edge answered quickly. “AH, WELL, I’M FAR TOO EXHAUSTED TO GO ANY FURTHER ANYWAY.”

A pause.

“skeletons don’t use the bathroom, Edgy.”

A growl.

“QUIET, YOU, AND QUIT HOGGING THE BLANKETS!”

Under the guise of redistributing the sheets and comforter, Edge managed to pull Stretch into position as the little spoon. Though he couldn’t see the satisfied grin on Stretch’s face, Edge could feel it in the way his bedmate’s body relaxed against him, fitting perfectly into every contour of his body.

Maybe this trip wasn’t such a waste after all.


	25. Love Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: A Corny (lamia UT!Sans) rescues a Coral (lamia UF!Sans), and they become romantic bondmates.  
> NSFW continuation in the next chapter.

For a Corny lamia bitty, any time is nap time, and the Corny bitties at the Lamia Bittybones Adoption Center spend most of their time snoozing underneath the anti-venom fridge in the warmth and darkness of their blanket nests. The Papythons of the shop, ever helpful especially when it comes to their Corny brethren, often fish the little skeleton snake hybrids out of their home so that they can bask in the warm sunlight that spills through the shop’s front windows on sunny days.

* * *

It’s early spring, and the weather has finally warmed up a bit. Birds are singing; flowers are blooming. On days like these, Cornies like them should be getting some sunlight while the Papythons conduct some very necessary spring cleaning on their communal nesting grounds.

All of the Cornies have been rolled out from under the anti-venom fridge and lined up in front of the window like limp, pale noodles. The Grillbitty who lives with the Cornies and provides them with premium naptime warmth joins the Papythons in tidying up and doing some long overdue laundry. There are enough McNugget crumbs in the nest to make a dozen Happy Meals….

Nothing bothers the Cornies though, all of whom snore through the entirety of being moved. Each and every Corny stays asleep, real or feigned, as golden rays  trickle through the window, moving across the sky until early evening arrives, bringing with it a noisy commotion from outside of the shop. One Corny, napping closest to the window, cracks open an eye socket to assess the situation.

A Coral lamia bitty cowers on the sidewalk, clutching something shiny to his chest while a human child jabs at him with a stick. The Coral hisses, but is unwilling to bite a young kid. The Coral’s little crimson eyelights dart to the left and right, looking for any safe place that he could hide, but he’s unfamiliar with the area and too tired and afraid to teleport. The Corny watching from the shop window knows he must act before the human injures the poor frightened Coral.

With a very small  _POP_ , the Corny appears next to the Coral, grabs his very small hand, and teleports back to the sun-kissed blanket pile inside of the adoption center. If the Corny expects gratitude, he is sadly mistaken. The Coral’s tail lashes and slaps the Corny across the face in the exact opposite of a thank you.

“my sssshiny. no take,” hisses the Coral, trying to stuff whatever shiny item he’s holding under his shirt. The Coral is dirty, thin, and covered in small scrapes, and the Corny can tell that he’s been living outside in less than ideal conditions. With a gentle smile, the Corny offers to let the Coral stay in his nest, reassuring him that no shiny treasures will be stolen with both lamias to guard them. The Coral glares suspiciously at the Corny and reluctantly agrees. He doesn’t have anywhere else to go.

Once the Papythons have finished their clean up, the Cornies are rolled back into their nests under the anti-venom fridge. If the Papythons notice one additional Coral-shaped Corny, they don’t comment on it. G the Grillbitty walks from nest to nest, warming the blankets so that the Cornies can resume their naps. The rescuer Corny makes room in his blanket pile for his guest and his guest’s treasure.

The Coral grunts and grumbles as he settles himself into the nest, eventually shoving around until he ends up with his tail casually draped over the Corny’s tail. The Corny pretends not to wake up when he feels the gesture of friendship, but his smile widens ever so slightly. He likes the Coral already.

By the time McNugget day rolls around, the Corny’s affection for his Coral companion has grown. The Coral decided not to move to his own nest and still shares a cozy blanket pile with the Corny, who he often accidentally snuggles in his sleep. The Corny sidles over to the other lamia, holding out a hot and crispy McNugget-y gift. Studiously looking away, the Coral just happens to yawn in the direction of the McNugget and capture it in his open mouth. Somehow, a piece of the Coral’s McNugget finds its way over to the Corny as well.

A few days later, the Corny finds the Coral’s precious shiny- a human coin- tucked into his pile of hoodies and the random socks that he likes to wear on his tail. The Corny had been sifting through the pile looking for a sentimental gift for the third bonding step, but apparently the Coral has beat him to it. The Corny presents one of his softest tail socks to the other lamia, who blushes at the sight of the Corny holding the coin to his chest, but when the Corny asks about the coin being gifted to him, the Coral just shrugs as if he has no idea what the Corny is talking about.

It is time for a display, the make or break moment in securing a bondmate!

Vex allows the Corny to borrow her phone, and he spends hours painstakingly photoshopping a meme for his display. He wants it to look just right. The Corny calls upon his meme lord buddies for their approval, and they applaud his clever idea. It is time to show his masterpiece to the Coral of his dreams. The Corny has never been so nervous in his life.

The Coral blinks when his nestmate slides the phone over to him. On the screen is the “Change My Mind” meme with the Corny’s winking face photoshopped over the human man. The sign reads “You are my bondmate. Change my mind.”

The Coral does not try to change the Corny’s mind at all.


	26. Love Nest (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of previous chapter. Corny (UT!Sans lamia bitty) and Coral (UF!Sans lamia bitty) mate.  
> CONTAINS: sexual content, sexual language, vaginal sex, double-cocks, blow job, slight cum inflation, breeding mention

Lamia bittybones don’t undergo regular periods of sexual heat like other monsters and bittybones do, but the act of securing a bondmate is enough to awaken a carnal desire in even the laziest of lamias… which happens to be the Corny. A Coral had accepted this particular Corny’s mating request, and the lazy lamia couldn’t just wait for things to happen naturally or for his partner to instigate a sexual encounter. 

Corals needed to be wooed, and that meant the Corny would have to put in some proverbial leg work.

The Corny turns to his new mate to begin a little bit of sensual flirting, but it seems that the time for being tsundere had long since passed for the Coral. The Coral sprawls in the soft blankets of their nest, slim phalanges parting his cloaca and showing off his glistening opening to the Corny. All thoughts of avoiding effort fly out the window, and the Corny entwines himself with his mate in a matter of seconds.

The lamia bitties’ small hands explore each other’s bodies, sliding along smooth, warm scales and touching the sensitive undersides of ribs. Fangs and forked tongues entangle in heated kisses, and the Coral strokes his mate’s underbelly until two cocks emerge, swollen with desire to fill the Coral’s tight, waiting hole.

A low moan escapes the Coral; he can’t control his responses or hold back the obvious pleasure he’s feeling when the Corny’s deft little fingers slip inside of him to tease his hole open further. The Corny has never worked so hard for anything in his life, but he’s never wanted anything so badly either. Pre-cum oozes from both cocks in anticipation of finally mating.

The lamias shift, and the Coral finds himself on top of his partner, the Corny smiling up at him with lust smoldering in his eyelights. That look is for him and him alone, and it makes his SOUL flutter. The Coral takes charge, gently restraining the Corny’s arms above his head. The Corny nuzzles and nips at the Coral’s neck, chuckling in a way that ignites the heat in the other lamia’s core.

The Coral teases his mate, rubbing his slick slit against the Corny’s double shafts until the lamia underneath him is aching and straining to penetrate him. The Corny tightens his coils around his mate, pulling their bodies close and easing himself into the decadent warmth of the Coral’s pussy.

It is so rare to see a Coral showing emotion openly and freely that the Corny takes a moment to truly savor the low moans of his mate as the Corny’s double cocks stretch and fill him. The Coral still refuses to let his lazy mate do all (or any) of the work, however. Lifting and lowering himself, the Coral uses his mate’s double cocks like a pair of ultra-realistic sex toys, angling himself to hit each sensitive spot inside of his pussy. The Corny simply leans back and lets the pleasure wash over him.

The Corny can feel his mate’s pussy clamping down as the orgasm hits, and the pulsing clenching sensation drives him to the edge as well. Coiling tightly around his mate, the Corny presses their bodies flush, burying himself to the hilt in his mate as cum pours from both cocks to fill the Coral. The Coral cries out as wave after wave of pleasure wracks his body, leaving him trembling with the aftershocks.

Content to be finished with their first (of hopefully many) matings, the Corny lets himself flop limply onto their nest of soft blankets, still wrapped tightly around his mate, but the Coral pulls away. The Corny’s confusion quickly fades when he feels his mate’s extremely dextrous tongue lapping his cocks clean. He can’t help it when he cums a second time into his mate’s waiting mouth. The Coral gives him a smug look, licking his mouth clean after the impromptu snack.

_Nothing in life could be better than this,_ thinks the Corny as his Coral mate curls up by his side, stomach bulging ever so slightly from the Corny’s cum. The Coral’s tail finds it’s way over to the Corny’s, twining together. _Nothing except maybe finding a home together… and filling a nest with some eggs._


	27. Skeleton Got Your Tongue?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: Reader gets tongue pierced by the Swapfell skeleton brothers.

“WELL YOU’VE COME TO THE RIGHT PLACE,” Sans assures you, though his living room doesn’t exactly strike you as the right place to get a tongue piercing. Still, after reading all of the internet horror stories and confessing your deep fear and mistrust of the procedure in general, you’re pretty sure there are worse places to come to.

“You know about tongue piercing?” you ask, trying not to sound incredulous and threaten your arrogant friend’s highly inflated ego.

Sans waves your question away… arrogantly. “I DO NOT SIMPLY KNOW ABOUT PIERCINGS, HUMAN. I AM AN EXPERT AT THEM, UNSURPRISINGLY OF COURSE.” Of course. What isn’t Sans good at? Humility maybe.

“But you’re a skeleton,” you venture to point out. You doubt that he forgot about his monster type, but skeletons just don’t seem like they would be interested in piercings. What would they even pierce?

“EXACTLY,” says Sans loftily without explaining anything. Fortunately, Sans’ brother shows up just in time to save you from your (unintentionally, you hope) heavily implied ignorance.

Everyone calls Papyrus Mutt, though the reasons for the moniker vary from describing his dog-like loyalty to mocking his penchant for spiked collars and unwashed clothes. As the lanky skeleton sprawls out on top of you on the couch, you idly wonder if scratching his skull will cause his leg to kick. You just barely manage to resist the urge. The last thing Mutt needs is more encouragement to ignore personal space.

“‘s almost impossible to give a skeleton monster a piercing,” says Mutt, then sticks out his tongue to blow a raspberry right in your face. He has a tongue piercing! “my bro’s the only one who can do it.”

You gape. Skeletons only have fleshy bits like tongues when they want to have them… so where does the piercing go? “How-”

A clatter interrupts your question. You didn’t even notice Sans leaving the room, but he’s already back with  _a freaking piercing kit_  and a tray of sterile piercings, setting them up on the coffee table like it’s a mall kiosk. You wonder why he has all of these tools on hand. Is he running some sort of illicit piercing operation out of his basement?

“piercing’s were popular where we came from. my bro’s done a lot of them. he’ll take care of you.”

“TONGUE, CORRECT?” asks Sans, selecting several styles of piercings from the tray.

“Wait,” you protest before they get too carried away. “I didn’t come here for a piercing. I came here to be nervous and whiny about getting a piercing!”

Sans levels a cool violet stare at you. “WELL, YOU WON’T FIND ANYONE BETTER OR SAFER TO DO IT, AND THE LONGER YOU WAIT, THE MORE ANXIOUS YOU’LL GET,” he points out. You narrow your eyes at him, but the statement is accurate. If you wait, you’ll talk yourself out of the tongue piercing for the umpteenth time. It’s now or never.

“How do monster piercings work?” you ask, eyeing the equipment. Everything is wrapped, but through the plastic it looks… completely normal.

“same as human piercings, but we use magic to sterilize and heal… and to anchor a piercing to ecto-magic if you’re a skeleton,” Mutt explains while Sans unwraps a fresh needle that glows faintly green. You recognize the color as healing magic. Mutt reaches over and plucks one of the piercings from the tray- a barbell, and in the exact color you would have chosen too. The “bar” of the barbell has the same healing glow as the needle.

“ARE YOU READY?” asks Sans, waiting for your shaky nod before he picks up the forceps to hold your tongue in place. You stick out your tongue, barely fighting off the urge to blow a raspberry in Mutt’s face. There’s no turning back now. It’s hard to scream “I changed my mind!” when someone is holding your tongue in a pair of cool metal forceps.

Mutt takes your hand, his smooth warm bones and the gentle pressure providing reassurance. These skeletons are your friends; they won’t let anything bad happen to you.

You brace yourself for pain, but Sans’ hands are steady. He punctures your flesh with the needle quickly and precisely. The bar or the barbell follows the needle through the midline of your tongue, and in a matter of seconds, the ball at the end is fastened securely.

It’s done.

It didn’t hurt.

It didn’t bleed.

The proud grins of the skeleton brothers bring a smile to your face too as you play with the smooth surface of the piercing in your mouth.

Sans was right, as usual.

You came to the right place.


	28. Sweet Victory (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: Ink and Error noncon  
> WARNING: contains non-con/rape

Victory tasted sweet.

Error squatted in front of his nemesis, the obnoxious paint-slopping Doodlesphere guardian, Ink. The strings he’d left as a trap in front of some useless alternate universe tangled around the skeleton’s limbs, hopelessly ensnaring him. Error chuckled darkly, and his tongues darted out to lick at his mouth, savoring the hard-won flavor.

“Well, well, well,” growled Error, his words marred by his glitches. “It seems I’ve caught you in my web at last, Squid.”

Tattoos swirled down Ink’s arms and, just like his phalanges, they fell maddeningly short of reaching the giant paintbrush that Ink might have found very useful in escaping the bindings.

Error’s mismatched eyes raked his archenemy’s body. As an added bonus to catching their intended prey, the razor edges of his strings had sliced through Ink’s clothing, baring his elaborate tattoos, his ribcage which housed no SOUL, and… his pelvis where rainbow hued magic pooled in the shape of a glistening pussy.

Ink whimpered and squirmed; arousal dripped from his pussy where several string were rubbing against his folds and clit. Ink was desperate, but maybe it wasn’t escape he craved. With a wicked grin, Error picked up the other skeleton’s paintbrush. There was more than one way to use such an unwieldy tool.

Spinning the huge brush in his hand, Error circled Ink. Ink’s equally mismatched eyes widened, one showing a yellow question mark and the other a green triangle. “What are you-” he started to ask, eyes pleading as they changed shapes and colors at a rapid pace.

Error plunged the wooden end of the paintbrush into Ink’s fluttering pussy. It was a tight fit, probably too tight, but Error didn’t care as he shoved the paintbrush violently in and out of Ink, staining the handle with the captured skeleton’s fluids. Ink shrieked, though Error couldn’t tell if it was from protest or pleasure… not that it mattered.

With his own glitchy magic responding to Ink’s mewling cries, Error considered the squid’s wide open, wailing mouth.

Yes, victory tasted sweet, but not as sweet as seeing tears streak down Ink’s face while his rainbow tongue coaxed an orgasm out of his throbbing cock.

The squid even had the good manners to swallow.

Maybe Error would keep him around for awhile… as long as he kept being so useful.


	29. Work Hard, Relax Harder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: I combined a request for a Chain (SF!Papyrus lamia) and King (UF!Papyrus lamia) cheering up their owner with a request for a Chain, King, and Honey Bo (US!Papyrus lamia) helping their owner relax after a stressful work day

Stress dragged at you like a suffocating weight. Constant exhaustion plagued you. You couldn’t even remember what a full night’s sleep felt like, much less a carefree day. You stumbled through the front door, made a beeline for the couch, and collapsed onto the worn but comfortable cushions, a moment away from bursting into frustrated tears.

Fortunately, you had adopted three full-sized lamia bittybones, and two of them were by your side the moment your body hit the couch. Though they frequently competed for your praise, the King and Chain lamias became the perfect dream team when it came to your return from your soul-crushing job. Unlike his hustling and bustling counterparts, your Honey Bo had two speeds: moving and not moving, and sometimes it was difficult to tell the difference.

Ever the practical one, your King helped you remove your dirty work clothes. He’d do a load of laundry later if you weren’t feeling up to it, and it really eased your mind to know you had someone to take care of menial tasks if you just couldn’t muster the energy. Your Chain, the emotional support all-star, brought you comfortable pajamas to change into so that you wouldn’t have to walk to the bedroom.

When he finally made his appearance, your Honey Bo presented you with a warm, plush blanket which may have been warm from him sleeping on it or because he’d made a detour to collect it from the dryer. Either way, you appreciated the soft warmth as he wrapped it around you. Nothing beat being spoiled by your three sweet boys, and you relaxed bit by bit as they went through their after-work routine to help you detox.

The Honey Bo slipped the TV remote into your hand, and you checked the DV-R. The three lamias had made sure to record all of the shows that you liked to watch but missed out on while you were at work. Your Chain climbed into your lap, and you petted him absently as you selected an episode to play. His purrs and the peace and happiness that flooded the SOULbond vibrated through your entire body.

You shifted slightly so that the Honey Bo could join the Chain in snuggling up against you. Your King returned from a brief sojourn to the kitchen with snacks for everyone. Once the food had been distributed, he draped himself along the back of the couch to rub the knots of tension in your shoulders. Your Chain argued that your feet probably ached more from over eight solid hours of standing up and immediately began massaging them.

The couch groaned under the weight of three full-sized lamias as they climbed over you to help you relax and unwind from your stressful day.

You were squished, but it was a happy kind of squished.

Your three big boys got you through each and every day with their adoration and antics, and you wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world, even a better job.


	30. Actions and Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: Kustard (UT!Sans x UF!Sans) where Red has trouble believing he is loved and Sans proves it to him.

On the list of possible responses to saying your first “I love you” from your partner, being stared at like you’d just revealed yourself to be several owls in a trenchcoat ranks pretty low on the list. Red’s follow-up words to his boyfriend, Sans, didn’t really improve the situation either.

“y’don’t gotta say crap like that t’keep me around,” Red said dismissively.

“can i say it because i mean it then?” asked Sans, trying to be lighthearted though the casual rejection stung.

“nobody really loves a guy like me. the novelty’ll wear off, and you’ll regret sayin’ it. i’m just savin’ ya the trouble.” Red accompanied his words with the pathetic shrug and averted eyes of someone who had been through this all before and had lost hope for ever finding real love.

Sans didn’t know what to say, especially since confessing his feelings had been knocked off the table already.  _Fine._  If he couldn’t  _tell_  Red that he loved him, he’d just have to  _show_  him instead! Sans made it his goal to shower Red in love until the grouchy, cynical skeleton could no longer deny the truth that Sans loved him.

The two skeleton monsters attended a cherry blossom festival, and Sans used blue magic to swirl the delicate pink blossoms around Red. When they visited a county fair to people watch, Sans slathered their corn dogs in a symbolic mixture of ketchup and mustard. Sans even arranged for a private viewing at a local observatory so that they could star-gaze alone together.

Time passed, measured in memories instead of moments: the Northern Lights, comedy clubs, holding hands while watching a thousand flame-hued sunsets. Sans never faltered. His love was constant, even pervasive. Red couldn’t escape it, and he certainly couldn’t deny it, not anymore.

“i s’pose y’can say it now,” grumbled Red, blushing as pinks and oranges from the setting sun kissed the underbellies of clouds over their picnic leftovers.

“say what?” Sans replied innocently.

“i love you.”

“i love you too.”

Red squawked indignantly. Sans tricked him into saying it first, then distracted him by making him say it first so that he could say it back without Red arguing!

It’s hard to stay mad though when the skeleton you love leans forward to kiss you against the backdrop of a blazing sunset.


End file.
